


Amongst the Chaos | Drabbles, Short Stories, and Oneshots

by infectiousKnowledge



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dreamnoblade - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hospitals, I use real names here but i ship personas only weewoo, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mafia AU, Smut, a bit of a mention of child abuse, and his name is Cy, cheerleader!dream, creepy bois inc, dre is basically dreams little brother, dream in a cheerleader outfit is poggers, football player techno is also pog, im done tagging oof, oh my god its dre, philza be lurking, stripper dream is pog, stripper!dream, techno plays violin, thats pog, wild west duel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 33,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27418945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectiousKnowledge/pseuds/infectiousKnowledge
Summary: A bunch of Dreamnoblade and just Dream or Technoblade drabbles, short stories, or one-shots. I take requests in the comments- smut, angst, and fluff.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/ Dave | Technoblade
Comments: 104
Kudos: 619





	1. Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Table of Contents. It'll get updated with every new chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not shipping real people and I'm sure as hell not going to force them into a relationship, I'm (mostly) not using real-life characteristics of them, I'm shipping their personas, all this is just for fun, I know that they're just good friends and that's great, let it stay like this. Most of those fanfics are just ideas I've come up with and decide to make them into stories with characters based off of these people and their personas, I really, really don't want them to fuck and/or date, that would be gross.
> 
> If a Big Man himself comes down, slaps me in the face, and calls me a nerd, I'll take this down.

This will be updated with every new story that gets added!

 **Senior Year** \- Dream and Techno as teenagers talking about how life sucks and senior year will as well

 **IRL Manhunt** \- Dream is just trying to get away from Techno

 **Flustered** \- Dream getting embarrassed when given praise or a genuine compliment

 **Show and Touch 1** \- Stripper!Dream puts on a show for some people

 **Show and Touch 2** \- Techno apologizes for touching the dancer

 **Clean but Dirty Water 1** \- Dream's little brother has a rough night

 **Creepy Bois Inc** \- An alternate universe discussed on a Discord server where all the sleepy bois characters are literally just insane. This one is for Philza. Not really Dreamnoblade, but I think y'all might still like it

 **Bach Chaconne** \- Techno literally just plays the violin and I go crazy with describing it

 **Clean but Dirty Water 2** \- Techno drives Cy home from the party

 **Clean but Dirty Water 3** \- Dream catches Techno on his way out of the house, asking him a simple question and thanking him

 **Wild Wild West** \- The fastest man in the west and his rival, a legendary bounty hunter, face off in a good ol' fashioned Western shoot out

 **Fraternal Monster 1** \- Ayyy another fic with Dre aka Cy aka Dream's little brother. Let's get sad alright?

 **Fraternal Monster 2** \- A double feature with Cy, he's a little older and partially learns something

 **A Useless Duel** \- I just describe Dream beating some nobody

 **Fireside Chat** \- Dream and Techno talk about things beyond themselves in the dark. **Warning for talk of death.**

 **Sands of Time** \- Dream is trapped. **W** **arning for character death and suicide**

 **Piss Baby** \- Dream is trapped, but it's funny

 **Concert** \- Dream and Techno attended a concert

 **Dark Water and a Murky Sky** \- Dream doesn't want to talk to someone and makes a mistake they didn't want to. **W** **arning for accidental suicide**

 **Crumble the Pyramid and Take it From the Top** \- A cheerleader is friends with a football player, friends with benefits. **Warning for smut/nsfw**

 **Friendships Do Not Die Hard. The Undead Do** \- Two kids against the apocalypse, what could go wrong? **Warning for gore and major character death**

 **Friendships Do Not Die Hard. The Undead Do: Happy Ending** \- An alternate happy ending to the original story

 **Friendships Do Not Die Hard. The Undead Do: Art Showcase** \- SOMEONE DREW ME FANART OKAY

 **Shot Down Where You Stand** \- The traitor has been caught, he is to be executed. **Warning for mentions of Character Death (but they respawn)**

 **An Undying Relationship Versus the End of the World** \- A sequel picking up some time after the alternate happy ending to 'Friendships Do Not Die Hard. The Undead Do' **Warning for mentions of Bullying and the possible Murder of a Child**

 **In and Out** \- A blonde is stressed and he turns to something he shouldn't. **Warning for Smoking and Mentions of Addiction**

 **Approval** \- Dream just wants approval for his actions. So he builds himself a house.

 **In Your Head** \- A small drabble about the voices in Techno's head. **Warning for mentions of Bodily Harm and Death** (Wasn't going to post this, but I got ignored a lot today and really want comments please please I beg)

 **Riptide** \- Dream breaks down over a dead lover while the radio plays their favorite song **Warning for Mentions of Character Death.** (This too, please comment I beg please-)

 **Blah Blah Blah** \- Dream's dead and a scary spirit helps him to the afterlife. **Warning for a dead child.  
  
Yearning **\- Dream despises his former-lover.  
  
 **Longing** \- Techno wants his former-lover back.

 **Carol of the Bells** \- A Christmas special featuring a young child trying to survive the cold. **Warning for mentions of dead parents.**

 **There Are More Things to Worry About Than Monsters. Try A God For Example -** A Supernatural Crossover. The Winchester brothers help a God find their subject of torment. **Warnings for Gaslighting, Manipulation, and Weapons.**

 **Dancing Circles Around You** \- A stable boy dances with a young prince. A young prince who wears a dress.

Marrionette Waltz - Dream dances around his secret base on the SMP. A lonely waltz that soon becomes a dance of 5.


	2. Senior Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 329 Words

"I was born in a messed up century." The blonde spoke as he walked along the railroad tracks, his best friend next to him. The childlike overalls he had on reminded him of the better days, the ones that both he and the world itself had seen.

"We all were, not just you exclusively." The other's hair could also be described as blonde, though it was more on the pink-side. "This entire world is fucked. College is probably going to be even more fucked, to be honest with you."

The dirty-blonde put his arms out, balancing as he walked one foot after the other on a thin bit of metal. "I don't even fucking want the school year to start, our senior year is just gonna be a reminder that it's the last one. We'll all either go to college after or be failures." He fumbled, feet sliding onto the ground

"We could just fuck around and be failures early, make the most of this shit." The pinkette kicked at the ground, autumn leaves and dirt floating up before landing back down. "Go to parties, do drugs, get drunk, have sex."

The blonde rolled his eyes. "Dave- we can't just fucking do all that."

The boy with the name stopped walking. "We could- last time I checked your mom barely knows where you are half the time and your dad hasn't cared since you were seven."

"What about your parents, dumbass."

"Dad just got married- mom also never checks in... We could literally just run away and go elsewhere."

He also stopped walking, turning around to face his companion. "But if we go elsewhere there's no parties, drugs, alcohol or sex-"

"Then we stay and do all that shit here, duh."

The blonde was silent. Tracing his sneaker against the somewhat moist dirt. "Fine, let's get smashed, trashed, dined and dashed."

"Dined and dashed?-"

"Exactly, eat my ass." The blonde was smiling, starting to walk along the tracks again


	3. IRL Manhunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 169 Words

A tall boy with dirty-blonde hair was breathing, hard. He had just run away from someone- something that was hunting him like he was simple prey. He sighed, kicking off the ground to keep running through the dense forest. The sound of a rock sliding against the blade of a sword made him squeeze his eyes shut.

His chaser was getting closer, extremely close. Pink-hair swayed with the wind, a menacing smile in place on their face instead of the usual deadpan. "You made this mistake yourself- Let's play manhunt, you said... It'll be fun you said... Look where we are now, Dreamy! It is fun. S'really fun."

He wasn't listening, heart pounding- _head_ pounding, and footsteps beating at the dirt to get him the momentum to run away. He frowned, hands grasping at the trees to try to push himself off them. His legs hurt, and so did his lungs.

"This'd be easier if you stopped running and just let me win like you know I'm going to."


	4. Flustered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 230 Words
> 
> Requested by Mell, love yaaa~ <3
> 
> "Here's an idea, as confident and flirty dream can be, he gets flustered and embarrassed whenever he gets genuine compliments and praise from Techno"

A dirty-blonde was stretching his legs- arms over his head as well as he held the position. A single yawn graced his mouth, cursing the fact he was practicing so early. A pinkette had wandered up next to him, sliding a card to clock in a time and immediately start running the course. The blonde rolled his eyes behind the mask obscuring his face. He knew he was going to win, so he didn't pay attention to the other person practicing. He swiped his own card to start the timer and immediately bounced into action. Everything was simple and he did it with fluidity and grace, smirking as he had passed the pinkette. "Remember, bacon for breakfast-"

The boy with pink-hair had just rolled his eyes with a small smile. "You're saying that now- but just you wait!"

He had waited, he'd finished the whole course in 4 minutes and some change, still smirking. He had this in the bag, Parkour Warrior would be his game.

By the time it was scheduled to start the game for real, all the players lined up at the starting line, the Blade next to the blonde. "I hope you do good, afterall, you said you'd beat me." He leaned over, kissing the mask on the cheek just as the timer reached zero so he could run off.

The blonde missed the first jump.


	5. Show and Touch 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 639 Words

Fingers slipped against a cold metal pole, legs crumbling to the floor, and head whipping back. The movement to grasp the pole with a fist and nearly flip into a standing position was smooth, fluid, practiced many times. Dirty-blonde hair bobbed with each movement, the slight fluff giving it volume and it's own fluidity. The boy dropped to his knees- tilting his head up and shushing over the mask on his face. People were smiling and yelling watching his performance as the next song kicked on.

He crawled his way to the edge of the stage, away from the pole to reach out and put his hand on someone's cheek- taking his hand away after a second and flipping his leg around to sit on his knees and basically bounce in place. Extending his leg to push himself up and stand. He whispered the lyrics under his breath, sliding down the pole into the splits just in time for the song to end. The people were throwing dollar bills up onto the platform, and they boy's heavy breathing was hidden behind the mask, and not able to be heard over the music.

He picked himself up, using the pole as a crutch to stand. The gloves on his pale hands made it harder to clutch the pole, but added to the sex appeal. He hooked a leg around the pole other foot coming up higher on the metal rod. He let go with his hands, using his thighs to keep him suspended, loosening their grip so he'd slide back onto the ground. The soft green and magenta lighting of the club reflected nicely onto his skin, patches of freckles turning nearly invisible.

The last song of his set came on, and he had real choreography for this one. This wasn't just do moves to the beat, it was a put together dance. He slipped back up effortlessly, back to the pole and hands above his head as if his wrists were tied together. The routine was sharp, and polished- slipping to the ground and somersaulting- running hands through his hair- kneeling down and feeling hands close enough to the edge reach out and rub along his thighs- reaching and dragging his own palms up from his hips to his chest and one of them up to his back. The other hand slipped his mask to the side to show half of a freckled face with an emerald eye.

Everyone was going crazy over the performer revealing himself further than the clothes already did on their own. He was a dancer known to keep himself hidden, this song a rare one on his set. He danced on pointe, forgetting the pole for a quick minute before spinning into it and holding with both hands. One slipping higher than the other and back down suggestivley, the exposed eye winking at the crowd when he turned to them.

The song had ended, signaling his entire set was over. He slipped down to his knees, a small bit of rest to pick up everything that'd been thrown before he walked out. Someone put a hand on his thigh and he immediatley tensed, not realizing he was close enough to the edge for them to touch him from here. He just turned to them- smirking and slowly pushing their hand off. "Good boys touch with permission." He stood up, turning and waving to everyone that'd gathered before heading to the backroom

The pinkette that'd reached out to touch the performer was blushing, his friends were putting hands on his shoulders, shaking him. He was just staring at the tall figure that'd turned a corner. His friends had dared him, so he did it, and he was now regretting it. He wanted to be a 'good boy' and he'd do his best to get permission.


	6. Show and Touch 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 353 Words

The pinkette felt awkward having done that, feeling the performer tense. His friends were leaving after clapping him on the shoulder, calling it a night. He wanted to apologize, he needed to apologize. He swiftly backed away from the stage, seeing a sweater-wearing dirty-blonde exiting a door to the right of the raised platform. They wouldn't have drawn his attention if not for the emerald coloring of their eyes. The blonde hair, the color, the freckles- his chance had arrived.

The blonde was slowly leaving, having finished up for the night and just wanting to go home. He was tired, dancing for hours would do that. Slipping around people and making his way to the door, he tensed again when the same hand that'd touched his thigh landed on his shoulder. He spun around, ready to curse anybody out but- he was silent.

"Look, I'm sorry for touching you earlier- my friends roped me into it and I had a few too many drinks to find it in myself to deny them." He ran a hand through pink hair, staring down at the ground and feeling a little awkward.

The blonde's face was graced with a small smile, eyes going half-lidded in what could be described as a seductive expression. "Don't worry about it-" He picked his hand up to wave and spin on his heels to leave. He stared at the door and before pushing it open turned around to the pinkette who was still standing there awkwardly. He glanced to the bartender to snatch a marker and napkin "You know what. For knowing what you did wrong-" He wrote his number down onto the napkin. "Call me, maybe I'll let you touch more than just my thighs." He winked and dropped the napkin at the other's feet, finally spinning around and leaving

The pink-haired boy was just stunned, bending down to pick up the napkin. The green marker was visible in the club lighting, a message next to the digits 'Hope you take up my offer, baby. Good boys usually start out bad.' He was definitely going to call the guy.


	7. Clean but Dirty Water 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1563 Words

Two dirty-blonde's stood outside a house, the older with a soft sweater while the younger was picking at the drawstrings on their hoodie. The eldest put a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, slipping his phone away and into his jeans pocket. "Rules for tonight. Rule one, don't accept drinks that you didn't make- rule two, don't accept drugs from people who are sober- rule three, don't open any closed doors."

The younger didn't get to respond before being led on into the house that's music could be heard from the front lawn. His brother had immediatley dissapeared in the sea of people, leaving him alone and vunerable. His only source of refuge in the loud place was a ripped-up couch with only one other person sitting on it. He sat up against the arm rest, picking and his hoodie.

The night was still young for the older, filling up a cup straight from the bottle and downing it smiling. Green irises shrinking as pupils dialated. The older had friends to keep him company.

The younger didn't. He looked across the room at his older brother, seeing them do shots with another person before being dragged away and out of sight. He frowned, quite possibly knowing exactly what his older brother would be doing. He stared down at the already stained carpet, green shoes contrasting against the tan.

People had circled around the couch throughout the night, avoiding the dirty-blonde on the couch in a hoodie a little too large for him. He really didn't understand why people didn't like him but- a hand going to his mouth to bite at his fingernails was all he needed to know. Everyone avoided him, some people made fun of him- his hair was messy from chewed gum being put in it that wasn't easily removeable. He pulled his knees up to his chest on the couch, hugging them. A hand landed on his shoulder, gently.

He looked up at who the hand belonged to, someone holding out a red cup to him with what looked like water. He took it, nodding a small thanks, and speaking one as well. He stared into the cup, shrugging and having already forgotten what his brother told him. It tasted horrible, the boy sticking his tongue out and staring at the nasty 'water'. He hugged himself again, setting the cup down. He hated the taste on his tongue, but it was slowly leaving his mouth.

He leaned back into the couch cushions, grimacing since the gentle tang of an aftertaste decided to linger. He didn't know why, but his mouth wanted to taste it again, the bitter and sour liquid. He stared at the cup, set aside and shunned. Shunned just like he had been. He grabbed the cup, downing the rest in one go. The person sitting across the way payed no mind, scrolling through their phone. The liquid still tasted like shit and he had to fight a gag with his oncoming cough.

It was horrible, and he was glad it was over. Leaning his head back against the couch and breathing, heartbeat in time to the music blasting. It was a surprise the cops hadn't been called yet for distrubance of peace. His thoughts slowly melted, no longer thinking logically. He sagged into the couch cushions, watching his brother get pushed around out of the corner of his eye. It didn't bother him watching his older brother get completley manhandled against a wall, or the interlocking of lips with a yellow-sweatered stranger. He didn't mind, letting his eyes drift to the ground and expression slack.

He couldn't bear to have his tongue in his mouth anymore, letting it push past his lips slightly. That was much better, eyes closing with content. His brother's friends were whooping at the blonde getting it on with a random person. His ears shut themselves off, body falling over the use the arm rest as a pillow and curl into a ball. His foot had knocked into the person at the other end, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

He felt a hand slip to his ankle and slowly up the leg he hadn't had the energy to pull up to his body. He frowned around his tongue- slowly blinking one eye open to see the hand sliding up to his calf. He just stared in confusion, not paying attention to the girl trying to basically sit on his lap. Though it was impossible she did her best to straddle him. He just closed his eyes again, not really caring. Sure he felt awkward with a hand trying to shove itself under his hoodie and black shirt. He just opened his eyes to look up at the girl, shaking his head slightly and trying to push her away. It didn't work too well, the girl immediatley sitting back down. He hand tried to shove his shirt up and he moved his own hands to grabs her wrists and push her away "Stop-" It was the first thing he'd said all day and he felt the weight of the girl suddenly gone. He just sighed, happy to be rid of her.

She didn't just leave on her own though, the person at the end of the couch had chased her off- replacing her. A calloused hand was slipping it's way up his shirt and he just couldn't find it in himself to care anymore. The person asked a question and he just nodded, unable to hear. There was then a pair of lips attached to his neck. His eyes just lidded themselves, a small sigh escaping him at this kiss to the side of his neck. He didn't make any moves to push away, just laying sprawled out on his back one top of a battered couch.

He didn't care- he just didn't care. His shirt was being pushed up further to expose his abdomen and slowly slipping even further up from there. The lips had stopped what they were previously doing on his neck to lock with his mouth. He slowly realized he wasn't able to move anymore. His brother's words from earlier echoed through his mind, making him frown. He was told not to accept drinks, yet that's exactly what he did. Now he was facing the concequences. His mouth had started moving on it's own, matching the stranger on top of him. His brain had decided, _'Fuck it'_.

Soon enough, someone else was dragging the new guy off. He looked up through half-lidded eyes to see someone that'd surely beat him up. He winced, bracing for impact of anything. Nothing ever came though, the person kicked whoever had been on top of him previously, making them run off. He made a strange noise, something like a 'Hnf' before closing his eyes again.

"Cy?-" The blonde heard his name, opening his eyes again to try and focus on the person looming above him. He just nodded slowly.

"Wassit?-"

It was a pink-haired boy that'd said the other's name, standing over him. "You look like crap." And they were just as blunt as he always was. Cy just shrugged in place. He wasn't in the mood for being ridiculed. "Where's your brother?-"

He huffed, rolling his eyes- the motion hurt him. "Getting smashed in more ways than one I bet." His tongue wasn't cooperating, causing him to slur the words a little bit. He didn't really care about that to be honest, all he was offended by was the fact Clay had just left him to his own devices. Sure giving him pointers and stuff was good, but he wished the older had stayed with him- making sure he'd be okay.

He crowned up at the pinkette, pouting a teeny bit. His brother's ex-boyfriend... The guy he had a crush on, and another reason people would call him a copy-cat of his brother. He continued to stare up at the other, feeling heat rise to his cheeks.

"What happened to you?-"

He shrugged at the words. He really had no idea, the disgusting water came to mind but- he didn't want Clay to be amd at the fact he didn't follow the rules. Though, if he told Dave, Dave probably wouldn't tell Clay- he was too out of it to think of that though.

"...Do you want a ride home?-" The pinkette sat down where the previous person was, speaking in a softer voice than their usual cold and sharp tone

The blonde stuck his tongue out slightly again, nodding softly. He didn't even want to come in the first place. He was roped into an opportunity to socialize by his brother, and it seemed like a good idea. Now? Now he was ready to cry at the fact he'd basically been abandoned by him.

Dave had pulled him to his feet, the blonde's body automatically already wanting to sit back down. The pinkette didn't let that happen though, helping him out of the house and into the passenger seat of his car.


	8. Creepy Bois Inc 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 665 Words

A blonde was walking through the halls of his own dark house. He was the oldest of all who lived there, and the self appointed protector. He hummed, green eyes gleaming with something unreadable- something that was more of a feeling than an emotion. His sandals clicked softly on the wooden tiles, the hallway small enough to echo the sounds. Then they all stopped. His hand came out of the pocket of his grey robe with green accents, landing softly on the spherical door knob.

There was a young boy softly sleeping on the other side of the door. When the knob was turned and the door pushed open, the small boy was revealed to the smiling elder. He felt complete knowing that the small blonde was in bed, sleeping soundly. His brown-haired friend in a mirroring sleeping bag next to him on the carpeted floor. His attention wasn't on the pinned up bugs lining the walls of the room, or the animal organs in jars on the young boy's shelves. The collection of knives on the child's desk was all in order, not a single bit out of place. The only problem was that they were still bloodstained with the day's kill. The chickens dissected body laid out by the knives, yet there was no scent from the corpse.

At first he was cautious about the young brunette his youngest 'kid' had brought home. He's come to accept them now, wishing their safety over everyone not a part of his family. To him, the small one was a part of his family. He exited the room swiftly, closing the door without making a sound.

Just further down the hall was another room, empty. Maybe the brunette would want to stay permanently- no... It didn't matter what they wanted they needed to stay. To be protected and kept safe and loved.

An older brunette was a few doors down, soft guitar music coming from his room. He wasn't awake though, the chords being played were a simple melody for his new song to impress the girl. His girlfriend of course, though she didn't know it. He had fallen asleep writing the melody, mumbling possible lyrics into his pillow.

The blonde opening the door to his room did not disturb him, did not wake him up in the slightest. The blonde took in the sight of the teen slumped over a guitar on his bed, hands slipped off the fretboard and body. The walls lined with pictures of girls didn't bother the blonde, even the ones with discernable red X's over the faces. The brunette never talked about those girls, and his newest fascination was front and center across the bed. The blonde turned the music loop off, tucked the teen in, and left just as silent as before.

The hallway continued, one more door at the end. The green-hatted man pushed it open to see the lump in the bed. He felt the breathing on the back of his neck and he didn't turn around to face the man behind him. The person in the bed was not who it needed to be.

The pinkette in the bed was not the blonde's 'son'. Someone was trying to replace him, become him- trick Phil into thinking that was him. He knew it wasn't- he knows it isn't.

The breathing was gone, he could no longer feel it- his ears picking up on soft footsteps walking away. He just closed the door, walking back down the hall. The new trail of blood wasn't too noticeable, and yet he saw it and followed it. It led to his own room at the entrance to the hallway, the room that could see all the doors. He entered, putting his hat down on the nightstand. He slipped into the bed, sandals falling off his feet.

He'd do the same the next night, looking over his 'children'. He'd been doing it for years, and he would continue to do it forever.


	9. Bach Chaconne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 214 Words

His bow flew across the strings in perfect synchronization to the metronome in his head, counting every beat and every stroke. Up and down and adding the slightest vibrato needed.

Hopping from string to string, sliding hands down the fingerboard- bobbing his head and swaying his body with almost every note. He was in the performance instead of the moment, all focus solely on the notes reverberating through the air, the melody sounding amazing without any need of extra tweaks. Perfect, pristine, and polished.

The longer it went on, the faster he had to play, and the quicker his bow would slice through the air like a sword cutting its way through any enemies. He was concentrating, a battle played entirely on a staff between the bass and treble clefs. The air hung thick yet the notes could be heard clearly- the beauty of the pinkette's performance not being abstained in any sort of way


	10. Clean but Dirty Water 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 341 Words

A blonde head leaned against the chilling glass of a car window. His everything ached- his head, his heart, his body. The car purred to life, pulling away from the house. Turquoise eyes did their best to focus on the scenery but found themselves muddled with tears. "I don't understand-" He pulled his knees back up to his chest, screwing his eyes shut and feeling them roll down his cheeks, landing on the car door.

The other that was driving the car frowned, not knowing what he was supposed to do. "What's wrong Cy?-"

"Me." The response was imminent, voice small. "Nobody likes me- everybody... Everybody thinks I'm just a knock off him..."

The driver frowned and sighed. "You're under the influence of something right now- I'm sure no one thinks that." He stopped at a traffic-light, turning to the passenger.

"Everyone thinks it, and they talk about it behind my back... Sometimes even to my face-" He rubbed at his eyes with his hoodie sleeves, muffling his sobs.

The pinkette just shook his head and turned around a corner. He didn't notice the sobs getting quieter and quieter until the younger boy had fallen asleep.

It was a silent drive the rest of the way to the dirty blonde's dorm, having to pick them up and carry them to the door when the car arrived. There were some looks from people roaming the common area, but they had looked away eventually. The pinkette knew which room was Clay's, it only made sense his roommate was his brother. He pushed the door open using the key he never gave his ex-boyfriend back.

He set the small blonde in bed, tucking them in and sighing when a small hand reached out to hold their sleeve.

"Don't go..." Turquoise eyes were filled with sleepy tears again, an evident frown. "Please..."

The pink-haired boy just shook his head, ruffling the blonde's hair and walking away. He wanted to stay, but he knew the older blonde would kill him if he found him hanging around.


	11. Clean but Dirty Water 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 265 Words

A dirty-blonde who was absolutely out of his mind stretched his arms above his head. He tilted his head to the side, hearing a satisfying pop from his neck. He was smiling and humming as he walked up to the door of his house, not seeing the car in his driveway. He waved to the guy who had dropped him off before watching them leave. He had pulled his keys out of his pocket to go and unlock the door before realizing it was already open. He frowned, pushing it the rest of the way to hear footsteps walking towards him and a familiar face with pink hair framing it. "Oh." The blonde narrowed his eyes, presumably questioning if he was really seeing who he was- or if he was hallucinating.

"...Clay-" The pinkette had an expression that could be described as awkward. He wasn't expecting the blonde to show up

"Watchyu want?-" He blinked, slowly. Neither of them wanted to be talking as of now. One intoxicated all to hell and the other just plain tired.

"To go home-" He walked past the blonde, trying to leave but an arm extended in his path, blocking him from leaving.

"Did you bring him home? Cy..?" His face softened, cheeks flushed from the drinks he'd had earlier in the night.

"Yeah." The pinkette put a hand to the other's wrist, lowering the arm that was blocking the way.

"...Thanks." Clay turned around, walking further into the house without another word.

"..." He took his time leaving the house and starting up the car to drive away.


	12. Wild Wild West

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 520 Words

A dirty-blonde stared off into the distance, hat askew on the top of his head. He spat onto the ground, a brown-ish green glob of tobacco taking residence in the dirt. He held the reins of his horse tight as he watched the sunset behind the orange-brown mountains. The light reflected off every rock and cranny in the plateau. He turned his head away from the beautiful disappearance of light- whipping the reigns to get his horse to start walking back down the mesa.

His hat threatened to fly off with the consistent gain of speed, a hand letting go of the leather ropes to keep it seated. Eventually, he was back on level ground, eyes searching the canyon "Where are you..?"

They had scheduled a duel, away from watching eyes. Just to see who was the better shot in the West. His opponent was to meet him in the mesa, they were to walk ten paces away- turn and shoot.

The beating of horseshoes on desert sand was audible in the echoing valley of the canyon, a pinkette dressed similarly with a pig skull donned on his head rode into the area. He pulled the reigns close at the last second to get his horse to stop and pull to the side.

"We agreed on before sunset."

"I got a little lost." The pinkette hopped down, fixing the skull-mask and cowboy hat.

The most feared bounty hunter and the fastest man in the whole west faced each other. The blonde slipped down from his horse too, mirroring the other. He slipped his gun from it's resting place in the hilt on his belt, spinning it around his finger and pointing it at the other. He put one hat to the brim of his hat, tipping it and sliding his pistol back into place. "Shall we get on with it?"

The other nodded, stepping closer to be face to face with the man. They turned around in sync, counting ten paces. The pinkette was the first to fire, the bullet whizzing past the blonde- marking him winning the first round.

The blonde was surprised, sharing a name with the terrain they walked on. Clay tilted his head towards the other "You're faster than I expected."

The other shrugged, unlike the other, few knew his real name. Sure he hid behind a mask just like his enemy did, but legends gain names of their own. "Banter is nothing but a tactic to stall."

Clay agreed, walking towards the other and they both began to spin around and walk away once toe to toe. He was the one to react faster this time, spinning on his heel to dodge a bullet aimed in the same spot as last time- drawing his gun and shooting his own with a quick enough speed the other was forced to accept defeat

"I'll admit, you do live up to your title." Face to face again. Back to back and walking away.

"I guess I win, correct?"

"Best of three... So, yes."

The pinkette's smirk was evident. "You were... Not even close."

Clay just rolled his eyes.


	13. Fraternal Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 481 Words

A teenager quickly scooped up a small toddler, racing up the stairs with the tiny kid in his arms. He quickly shoved the door to his bedroom open, plopping the kid down on the bed and locking the door "Okay so- what now?"

The kid stared at the elder, worried. He just made some awkward babbling noise and reached out hands in his direction. He sighed, picking the smaller up again and hugging him tight

"Listen, I'm sure it'll be okay-" He was speaking softly, quietly. It was as if there was something or someone he didn't want hearing him. There was a loud knock on the door.

"CLAY!?- IS THE KID IN THERE?-"

He shook his head, placing a hand over his little brother's mouth "Uhm- no dad. He isn't- probably behind the couch or something-"

Booming footsteps quickly walked away from the door and downstairs.

The elder blonde held the kid tight to him "I'm going to do my best to get you out of here, okay Cy?-"

The kid didn't understand, eyes tearing up from how loud the voice was. He just nodded, gripping tightly onto his older brother's shirt

"Hey-" He softly put a hand on the little kid's cheek "Can you smile for me?-" He tried his best to show the other a big smile, hoping they'd copy it. The kid did his best, still a little scared as he smiled with tears falling down his cheeks "Good job- there's... There's nothing to be scared of alright?-"

There was yelling in the other room and the elder sat down on his bed, holding the kid tight and running a hand through their hair

"It's- it's alright."

The kid was scared, clinging like his life depended on it. In his eyes, it did depend on it. He was terrified of the voice, the monster outside the safe place his brother had created. He didn't know what the monster was, or why it was so angry and looking for him. He didn't dare ask his brother who or what it was either. He screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the telltale click of the lights turning off downstairs. The monster didn't dwell in the dark, the dark was safe.

His brother had pulled him down and close, putting a blanket over them both. He didn't bother telling his brother that they didn't have their pajamas on for sleeping- he settled on wrapping his arms around the elder's waist, knowing he was safe in his brother's presence.

"We'll be safe soon. You're gonna sleep here tonight, alright?-"

His brother always spoke softly to him, scared if he spoke too loud he'd hurt him. He just nodded into his brother's chest, loosening his grip a little bit. "Okay..."

His brother couldn't take him away from the monster yet, but he could always try to keep him safe in the meantime.


	14. Fraternal Monster 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 542 Words

He was 6 years old by the time the monster was gone, his older brother sitting at a comfortable 14. He remembered it was another night in his brother's room, huddling in the elder's arms for safety. There was yelling, two voices this time. He knew one was his mother, and he had suspicions the other was his father. All he knew was his dad was gone the next morning and his brother was a little happier than usual. The dirty-blonde was making a sandwich in the kitchen instead of waiting for the kid to be awake

"Cy-" It was the first time in a long while that his brother's smile was genuine. He found himself smiling along, quietly asking for a sandwich in his lunchbox for school. His brother had nodded, pouting upstairs and telling him to go get ready.

Weeks had passed with no signs of the monster, the young boy once again feeling safe enough to sleep in his own room. His dad wasn't home though. He knew there had to be a correlation between both his dad and the monster leaving at the same time. When he asked Clay, he wasn't given an answer. When he asked his mom, she too waved the question away. His older sisters all did the same too.

Things seemed to only get better though. His older brother was going to gymnastics after school instead of rushing home to take care of him, even bringing him to practice sometimes. It was a nice quiet area to get homework done and watch how fast and flexible his brother was. His mom was much happier, and his sisters actively talked to him again.

He soon found himself forgetting about the monster attached to his father

But good things usually always come to an end. He had come home from school early, a voice mail waiting to be played on the home phone. His older brother had left the room to put his away upstairs. The kid played the message and for the first time in a few months heard the monster's angry yelling. It was audible now, and he heard every word.

"How's it been going with the kid?-" He was surprised to hear his dad's voice at the beginning "I know he's not mine Charlotte- those goddamn eyes are BLUE. Neither of our families have blue eyes Charlotte!-" He blinked, surprised, though the message continued "Who the fuck was it! The mailman!?- Why do you keel insisting that he's-" It stopped with a pale hand hitting the button to delete the recording.

He looked to the hand's wrist, green sweater, and upward to his older brother. "What's-"

"Shhh..." The machine spoke about how the message had been deleted, and arms were wrapping around the kid's waist to lift him up. "Mom's staying late at the gym tonight, what do you want for dinner?-"

He wanted to ask about the message, about the monster, about his dad- but he forgot all the questions he had. "Can you make spaghetti?-" He looked up at his brother, not caring that he was being seated on the kitchen counter

"Sure can."

He eventually truly did forget all about the monster, getting lost in a world of yummy goodness.


	15. A Useless Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 154 Words

Nimble hands- swift hands- quick hands- there were many words used to describe the motions, the slices through the air. A blade directed perfectly through the target. The sharp metal dancing and the swordsman wielding it dancing along. Truly a sight to see, light feathery motions causing such chaos.

It was entrancing, entrapping, beautiful, and elegant. Practiced methodization- stabs and jabs that in their own seemed to do nothing, yet it all added up.

Agility combined with strength was a dangerous combination- and a dirty-blonde knew the perfect way to use both to his advantage.

Not only was he light on his feet, but he was calculated. Unlike the opponents he faced off against, he let a smile cross his features instead of the stone-cold expression they all seemed to wear.

It wasn't because he was happy- it's because it was thrilling- a small rush and an enjoyable game.

Another win for the sellsword.


	16. Fireside Chat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 203 Words

"What does it mean. Death." The blonde turned towards the companion, their set expression highlighted by the flames of the fire.

"Depends on who you ask." The pinkette slid his eyes up to the other, a soft gaze instead of cold and hardened. A genuine answer.

The blonde looked down at the dancing sparks- oranges and yellows intertwining in an extraordinary way. "I'm asking you."

The other leaned back, using a hand to keep themself upright. "I think it's an end-"

The blonde scoffed.

"-I'm not done yet." The pinkette huffed and rolled his eyes. "I think it's an end, but also a beginning."

"A beginning?-" The other was curious, tilting his dirty-blonde head slightly. "A beginning to what?-"

"A beginning to try again. Bested in a duel, you fall, and yet you get back up. You respawn." The man tilted his head up to stare at the stars, a bit of smoke swirling in the air above the two. "It's a sign of loss to a victory that's yet to come."

The masked man nodded slowly, eyes turning to the sky as well. "I suppose I agree with you in that sense."

"An end and a beginning?-"

"An end and a beginning."


	17. Sands of Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 939 Words

A fist slamming against a wall, a single tear falling down a cheek, an agonized cry, and a hand running through dirty blonde locks- tugging in frustration. The male slipped down against the bricks, bringing his knees up to his chest. "It's not fair-" The same words he'd been uttering for the past few minutes under his breath that he was now able to speak up and out about.

"It's not fair..." An aching bare fist wiping away a single tear, cries hushing themselves, and a hand letting go. Fingers tracing against the cement, prints placed onto small rocks, and dirt collecting under nails. "It's..." He'd given up.

He'd given up and used the hand not busy grinding against the rocks to cup his own cheek.

There were more tears, but the frustration had burnt out.

A single shaky breath and an awkward laugh. A laugh of hysterics- joining the tears. "It's not fair-"

He slid his eyes over to the person a bit away from him.

"But you know that. Don't you..." He swallowed roughly.

A fallen comrade, a life once lived- a love once requited. Broken and beaten and killed.

He blonde dug his palms into his eyes, forcing himself to see stars- a dull ache that he didn't mind.

"It's not fair it's- it's just not-" There was no one to answer his silent please- no one to ask him what wasn't fair. He wanted to do it over again. He wanted to switch places.

A hand slipped onto his shoulder and he cried out, sliding it off forcefully. "Dream-"

"NO. It's not fair-" He was hysterical again- staring at the fallen man.

His hands slid down his arms, gluing themselves to the spot. "It should've been me- IT SHOULD'VE BEEN-" He was cut off by his own mind. What should've been him, nothing happened- nothing was wrong, everything was fine.

His friend was back to trying to touch him and he turned his back on them. "Dream. What's done is done."

"What's done is bullshit."

He wasn't sad anymore- he was angry. He was angry at himself and angry at the world. Angry at the memories- angry at the promises angry at every single last bit of it.

Angered back into a perpetual state of sadness. He covered his hands with his face again, turning away from the lifeless body and the breathing one trying to comfort him. "That asshole- switched it."

"He sacrificed himself-"

"HE SHOULDN'T HAVE." He was yelling and he hated it. His voice hated him for doing so and it echoed off the stone walls of the chamber. The stone walls of the deathtrap. "He shouldn't have..." Softer. "He..." Muted.

The blonde hung his head low, letting the tears fall and paint the concrete a darker color. Little splatters, little droplets, little smiles. "He really shouldn't have... It was supposed to be me- it was ALWAYS supposed to be me."

He was like a pouting child, trying to fight against the normalization- trying to get his way. There was no reversal, as his friends had said- what is done is done. "But-"

"No- it should've been me don't even try to argue." He could speak, he could formulate sentences, he had just become distracted- thoughts clouded with demise. "It should've been me- and it has to be." A few more people entered, grabbing the body and carrying it out, gently. An act of kindness not wasted though the person showed such emotion could not tell. "I can't-"

"-Stay here, you need to leave Dream." There was the other, trying to coerce him into leaving.

He just laughed again, hoarse from the tears hoarse from the cries- hoarse from screaming for help. Hoarse from trying to find another way out that didn't end in someone dying. "I'll do whatever the hell I please-"

Another friend came up and they tried to band together and drag the blonde away. Though he was sitting, he stood his ground. "Dream-"

"No." He didn't want to believe it, but he knew he had to. But he didn't have to leave either. He could stay and let the same punishment arise.

His partner was dead.

What else was he to do?

A treasure hunter's life was dangerous- what else was he to do.

What else. What else. What else. It's dangerous to be alone- yet that's the whole point. He wanted to be alone. "I need. I need a minute to myself."

His friends shared a glance at each other, and a look around the room- the death trap- the bloody spike in the center. They sighed and patted him on the back before packing up their stuff. The door to the tomb was left open, a strong brace in place to keep the iron prison from locking.

He got up on shaking legs and used his blurry vision and bleeding hands to remove the brace.

The door sealed.

The deed was done and he heard shouting on the other side, people racing over to try and open it again. People yelling his name, screaming for him. He didn't answer and made a b-line for the goddamn spike.

A glyph underneath- a glyph saying that to open the door there needed to be a sacrifice. He slid his finger over the top, some of his lover's blood coating the soft pad.

He frowned, watching a cut form on his finger and the two coagulants mix. He needed- he needed to...

He raised his hand over the spike, he wasn't going to slam it down though.

He tripped.

The door opened.

There was an increasing number of shouts.


	18. Pissbaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 144 Words

"NOOoOooOoO FUCKKKK" The blonde slid back against the wall, arms crossed as he glared at the door that kept him trapped. He thought that maybe he could just will the door to open- he couldn't.  
  
He frowned, tearing up slightly and hating himself for crying. He sniffled, wiping the tears away swiftly. He tapped at his walkie talkie. "Guys... I'm trapped-" Laughter reached his ears and he rolled his eyes. He held the button down and sat up slightly. "It's not that funny-"

"It is!" The voice was crackling and the blonde pouted slightly. "You're stuck- where are you stuck?"  
  
He looked around in the small space. "Fucking- I don't fucking know- there's a damned iron door! I can't see too well."  
  
"Look- calm down and stop acting like a piss baby for 2 minutes-" There was a bit more laughter.  
  
"I'm not- I'm not a piss baby!"


	19. Concert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 230 Words

Rythym without reason. A tapping foot, beating along to the flow. A tune only the deaf could hear, and that the blind could hope to see. Breath in the air, swirling and mixing with all of it's kind- chemical reactions sparking within seconds. A single mass, a hivemind.

Bodies swaying from side to side, lost to the rhyme and lost in the dark. Neons of green and pink and purple illuminating them all. Mindless dancing, mindless singing along. Music that is decibels over what is legally allowed, eardrums threatening to burst and a constant ringing in the background from the noise.

Two people in the crowd, two lonesome boys who wish to be anywhere else. It's loud and it's upsetting, it's loud and it's late. They want to go home.

So they do.

Driving away from the colors, and the speakers blaring. Though they probably shouldn't, they didn't stay exactly sober while dancing with everyone else. They don't care though, falling asleep at the wheel- heads hurting from ever little noise- the hum of the engine and the tires rolling across asphalt. They regret their decisions.

At the time sneaking out seemed like fun- running away from dastardly homes for a night of fun. A night of fun and intoxication. Whether it be from substance or each other.

They loved every second of the act, now they'll hate the aftermath.


	20. Fuzzy Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 418 Words

Black. Blue. Purple.

Pain. Tears. Screams.

Blurry vision. A headache. Ringing ears.

A single pale hand drags across black, blue, and purple skin. Bits of crimson sticking to the pads of fingers. They don't remember.

Cuts and scrapes, an overall disheveled appearance. Dirty-blonde hair matted with dirt and maroon honey. They fall back against the cement, cries muted and confused, tears ever-present and cascading down slowly.

They're crying. They don't know why. They don't remember why.

Something tells them that they don't want to know why. They do not know what this something is.

They do not listen to this something.

They do not listen to this voice.

It calls out to them again, a hand on their shoulder. A hand shaking them slightly. They cannot hear what it is telling them. This new person, this new body. It's all they have with them.

They cling to it, holding on dearly as if it will disappear like everything else has.

The person holds them back.

The person is gone.

They are weeping, face sore and pressed up against the bland blue-ish grey coloring of the concrete. Phantom touches lingering. Some are soft, some are painful, some are just a weight on their form.

They cannot hear themself beg, they do not even realize they're doing so.

They long for something.

They long for explanation.

They beg for something.

They beg for explanation.

Explanation does not come in the form of words or actions. Explanation does not come as a cascade of darkness. Explanation does not come as a written guide. Explanation does not come as the steady beat of a heart-rate monitor.

It does not come in the form of fluffy dirty-blonde hair. It does not come in the form of a blank white ceiling. It does not come in the form of an IV drip. It does not come in the form of open eyes.

Vision no longer blurry, taking in the sights of the gray walls- taking in the sights of the tan chairs.

Ears no longer ringing, taking in the sound of steady beeping- taking in the sound of birds chirping.

The blonde is alone, but they are okay.

They are okay for they do not remember anything before the swirling darkness.

The tears, the lacerations, the bruises. They are no longer present. The child stares out the window from their position on an uncomfy bed.

An overreactive imagination can be scary.

They settle for no explanation, and instead for a single cup of jello.


	21. Dark Water and a Murky Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 642 Words

The blonde huffed, breath misting in the air- the sheer cold causing the reaction. He pulled his phone out of his sweater pocket, reviewing a notification that told him he had 30+ unread messages, all from the same contact. He shook his head- dismissing the notification only for it to come back as 40+.

He shook his head, eyes closing and his whole body going with a heavy shrug. He sat on the railing of the bridge, the only light being from his phone and the dim lamps lining the structure. He looked out on the water below.

It was beautiful, dark purple-blues of the sky, and teal-whites of the moon reflecting off the surface. It was so pretty.

The moment was interrupted by his pinging phone. He didn't look- he threw the device into the water. The waves rippled on the surface, radius expanding until the water settled once more. The cell phone was quick to sink to the bottom, air bubbles trapped inside rising to burst on the surface of the water.

He didn't have it in his heart to block the person, he couldn't do that. He leaned back on the thin railing, holding on to stand on top of it. He was wobbly at first, but he got his balance eventually.

His silhouette was just as beautiful as the view.

A dark figure impeding the teals and whites of the moon- a sight perfect for a camera to capture. He stared down at the dark water, wind picking up slightly and messing up his hair. The dirty-blonde locks framed his face somewhat and he looked off into the dark sky.

"Why..." He whispered it to the moon, a one-sided conversation. "...Why." He shook his head once again looking down. His hands shot up to his cheeks, frozen patting against cold. His hands were shaking.

He was wobbling again- almost falling off. He screamed out into the dark, falling against a pillar that was part of the bridge's design. "Why!-"

Tears were falling now and he slipped, his foot lost. He caught onto part of the design on the railing before falling, dangling dangerously above the water. People only fell off this bridge for one reason- and he was having second thoughts- he wasn't ready yet- this slip-up with a mistake.

He wasn't that strong, he couldn't hold on forever. He stared down at the still water, sniffling, and wiping his tears. He was able to pull himself up some, but he couldn't get all the way back to safety.

He took a minute, calming down the sobs and letting the air dry the wetness on his cheeks. It all smeared onto his green hoodie. He slipped.

He fell back in slow motion from his perspective, air pushing against him but gravity fighting back and taking him with it. He blinked his eyes open, head throwing back enough to catch a last glance at the beautiful moon before he broke the surface of the water.

Water. Deep, dark, and blue surrounded him. All that registered in his mind at the time was that he was sinking, slowly falling to the far bottom of the cold abyss. Not that he had just jumped on accident, not the person he'd been texting before. His eyes opened to be met with indigo. He tilted his chin upwards slightly, vision drawn to that beautiful moonlight leaking from above.

The light was dimming, reminding the emotionally exhausted boy that he couldn't do anything to get closer to the surface air- or he could, but he wouldn't. He was as calm as ever, submerged entirely. He wasn't even shaking from the added cold. If not for the unpleasant, but nowhere near painful, feeling of water filling his lungs he would have let out a chuckle.

He would've cursed a God, if there even was one.


	22. Crumble the Pyramid and Take it From the Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1744 Words

_**Putting a second warning right here. This DOES contain smut of Dream in a cheerleader outfit.** _

  
【- - -】

A dirty-blonde huffed, leaning over and breathing heavily. It was a real workout, the cheerleading team. He was obviously looking forward to a cold shower after he got home, just a few hours of soaking in a cold tub would be- so nice.

He wiped a bit of sweat off his face with his hand and made a noise of disgust, flicking it towards the ground and then rubbing the rest on his waist.

Oh god, his waist.

He wasn't going to think about the skimpy outfit that was clearly against the dress code, but also the required uniform. Sometimes he didn't know why he did this. A favor? Fun? A dare? He couldn't remember honestly.

It was fun in the end, fun all the same.

His feet were guiding him to the bleachers to grab his water bottle and he got there before realizing.

"Great practice, Clay-" Some girl on the team was talking to him and he glanced over, nodding. Right. He really fucked up being on the bottom of the pyramid, and nearly fumbling when catching a flyer.

"You too." He couldn't remember her name, but if he did, he would've said it.

His feet were taking him to the locker room as he drank, happy to see it mostly empty. Wait for everyone to leave- change- go home- shower.

That was the plan.

And it was a perfect plan. The desired plan. The ultimate plan of all plans.

His mind was running the marathon that his body had felt had gone on. It was annoying, but he'd deal with it before getting the well-earned rest.

Sometime between his thoughts quieting and the people already in the locker room leaving- he remembered something. Something about football practice.

No, he wasn't on the football team- of course he wasn't, he was standing here in thigh-highs and the shortest skirt allowed by the laws of the world. No, there was someone on that football team that always got a kick out of seeing him.

It was an internal debate between natural rest and... Forced rest in a way. Both ended in rest, but one required a bit more from him. It was a simple decision.

That he ran out of time to make because that person was already next to him and digging in their own locker. "So. Didn't see the cheerleaders on the field." Snippets of pink hair were visible, just beyond the blockade of the open metal door.

"We were in the gym." The response just poured out of him, as if commanded in a way. He didn't mind.

The blonde watched the tufts of hair leave his sight and then return, a nod. "Understandable. I just don't get why the team doesn't think that we won't mind if they're out there."

"Probably for making secret cheers and stuff- surprises for the football jocks." He shrugged, it wasn't his place to know anyway. He wasn't startled by the loud sound of the door closing and kept his eyes and the pinkette- but then on the ground and at his feet.

"Surprises. Coach loves surprises." Their voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"A good surprise." The cheerleader hadn't noticed that the locker room had emptied, everyone going on with their day. Whether it be to their houses, to a food place, or to a store. Everyone was gone.

Leaving him and his friend. If they could be called friends.

He preferred to tack benefits onto the end.

"A good surprise. Wow. That makes it all the better." The voice was monotonous, but still held seeds of humor sewn into the speech. A joke.

"It should... Now. Why're you still here..?-" The blonde's hands unconsciously drifted downward to toy with the edge of his skirt, an inch over the tops of the matching green thigh-highs. Color coordinating, the school was all about that.

"Because... You are?" The other was finally turning to face him, eyes holding a playful light. As if this was all a game.

Foreplay, was what his mind told him. Foreplay, just to get riled up before the real fun starts. The real game. "That's a stupid reason to stick around."

The other's eyes were on the fiddling hands- mind thinking of what was underneath. "Look. I thought it was cute."

Cute would not be a word used to describe it. Clay dropped the edge of the skirt, leaning his shoulder against his own locker. "Cute how?"

"Why don't you stop questioning my word choice." Leaning against the locker or not, being pinned against it was clearly the next step. It certainly was the next step. The blonde huffed, cutting off other noises and acting somewhat surprised.

"Alright. I guess I'll stop verbally doing so." He slid his hands up the other's shoulder, rubbing at the skin through thick pads. He wanted the pads gone, but he'd deal with them for now. The flirty banter was worth keeping the pads around momentarily.

The hands on his hips were familiar, and a needed- wanted weight. Who thought that sewing the skirt and the top would make things difficult in the sex department. Clearly not the people who made them.

Then again- they probably weren't thinking about that.

The hands were sliding down and under the skirt part of the uniform, residing on his hips underneath. Now that was much better.

The blonde sid his eyes up, meeting the other's and smiling seductively. Sure it didn't feel hot and sexy, but it was hot and sexy. "Someone's eager."

"Yeah. You bet I am."

Oh yeah. This was gonna be fun.

The blonde didn't mind the fingers searching for the waistband of his underwear to pull the pair down to his knees, hands shooting back to their rightful place on his hip bones as the cloth slipped down the rest of the way to his ankle.

The two bodies coordinated a countdown, and on three the blonde hopped up, hooking his legs around the other's waist and getting a face in his neck. He kicked his boxers off the singular ankle they'd stayed attached to and fought off a giggle at the fact that they landed ontop of someone else's locker. He sighed, still flushed from his cheer workout and letting the new attention turn it into an embarrassed blush.

Nothing had even really happened yet and he was already feeling quite literally wrecked. Being exhausted was amazing.

He slipped one hand off those stupid shoulder pads and trailed it down to unzip the other's pants, internally pouting at the fact that he got jeans, or at the least a uniform in separate parts. He'd fight for a crop top and skirt instead of the bull shit he was wearing.

"This is probably gonna hurt-" They were both impatient, but they both don't care either.

"I honestly don't care just fuck me." He said what he was thinking, what was on his mind. Blunter than he'd been before.

He just got a huff and a sound that the body would make only when rolling the eyes. A few seconds later and he was wincing due to pain, burying his face into the other's shoulder and waiting. Just a minute, he just needed a minute.

He didn't get a minute, yelping and holding on for dear life. Yeah- okay. This was fine. Having the other already painfully buried to the hilt was like ripping the band-aid off. It hurt like hell but in the end, was the more effective way to do things.

'Do things', as if this is something productive. Which it would be- if there even was a product from it. In a way there was, producing pleasure and semenal fluids. Because both of those are the only things horny teenagers need.

His thoughts were the best distraction, blinking his eyes back open, sighing at the pain settling down at last. "Move."

"Bossy." Though the other complied, slow and gentle despite the rough entry. The rough entry of the cock in his ass. Cock. Ass. Thinking the two words fizzled his brain, exhaustion talking to him as well as sleep deprivation. He just huffed, enjoying the feeling, and staying within the moment.

He huffed, swearing he felt his breath through every last one of his nerve endings. Sensitivity wasn't a feeling, it was a whole ass identity. He was feeling every last breath, tiny motion, and pivot and- he kept his head on the other's shoulder, the pad making an exceptional pillow.

"You're bleeding." Sure the other said it, but they didn't stop.

"You say that like I care." In a way he did, or- he was going to. When he was wobbly on his feet and sitting down suddenly seemed worse than breaking a bone. In the moment though, he could bleed from anywhere- the pleasure could combat the pain and put him in a simple state of bliss.

A pleasant sensation that he hoped would never end. But it would of course. Just not right now. Not for at least another two minutes. Two minutes was all he needed to, quite literally, get his fill.

Two minutes was all it would take. Two minutes of mindless, sweaty pleasure before exhaustion would properly set in. Two minutes that would go by in a fraction of the second. A pleasurable experience ended in no time at all.

And it was, panting and sweating more than before, partly confused- brain not having caught all the way up with the rest of everything. The blonde huffed, not even realizing he had purple splotches covering the divot where neck met shoulder, perfectly in a line.

He set his head back down on the other's shoulder, having thrown it against the metal storage containers at some point where his mind fizzled out.

He closed his eyes, swallowing roughly. "Set me down-" He slid his head to the side, ever so slightly. He didn't realize his feet were on the ground until he was nearly falling over.

He didn't even realize that the underside of his skirt was... Soggy, to say the least. He made a small noise of disgust, bending over to picket up the discarded underwear from earlier.

When he turned around his companion was gone. He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the cold metal.

That nice cold shower was still part of the plan.


	23. Friendships Do Not Die Hard. The Undead Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4247 Words, all live written on the Dreamnoblade Discord server
> 
> Join here!
> 
> https://discord.gg/rg84b7cEVU

The pink-haired child huffed, running down a deserted street. The sound of his sneakers, larger than his size so that he'd grow into them, hitting the pavement was a steady metronome. He avoided every crack in his sprint, even if his mother wasn't around, he would never break her back.

He whipped his head around, stupidly stopping to take a breath and listen to a low groan. He broke back into a run, leaving whatever it was that had made the noise behind him. He didn't have anywhere to go, living life on the run from the monsters that now stalked the world.

He knew that daytime was safe, the perfect time to head out and gather supplies. He was quick to duck into a dark building, a gas station.

Armed with a baseball bat from the one time he played in the little league, he held it up on his shoulder, looking around the dark aisles, flashlight in one hand. Something was shifting and he heard it move and hit something, groaning and sounding just like those creatures of the dark.

He huffed, staying away from whatever it was and filling up his pokemon-themed backpack with lots of snacks as well as a few lighters.

The thing on the other side of the store groaned again and the boy quickly pressed up against one of the fridge doors. He opened the powerless cooling unit and grabbed a few bottles of water, happy that the place had not been raided yet by other survivors.

He was quick to run out the door when he heard slow footsteps approaching.

The sky was a beautiful orange instead of blue, the sun setting already over beautiful hills. The child cursed under his breath, opening up one of the jerky packs he'd grabbed. He wasn't stupid, just young- but he knew protein was an essential. Protein was good and healthy- meat and nuts held protein and nutrition.

With the sun's light disappearing, the boy was panicking. A quick look at the surrounding buildings didn't give much hope. Apartments held hordes and shops were a toss-up.

He took his chances, ducking into the apartment complex and hiding in a utility closet on the first floor. He made sure the door was locked and blocked, using a flashlight to file through a notebook and write in it. A log of the days.

It had been three weeks since the world went to shit, his parents loading him up with stuff and sending him off, knowing he had the best chance to survive out of them all. He wrote about how he explored for a bit and restocked his food and water.

He was spooked by the sounds of feet shuffling around outside the door. He turned off the flashlight and hugged himself, zipping up the jacket he was wearing. He picked up his notebook and pencil, stuffing it back in the bag and hugging it, laying down. It was a good enough pillow.

【- - -】

He woke with the sun, along with silence. The horde was gone, just as it always was with the bright ball of gas. He rubbed at his face, moving the blockade in front of the door. When he opened it, it was still as quiet as ever.

He heard crying.

He looked around, confused. It was coming from above, up the stairs. He stood at the first step, holding his baseball bat tightly, armed and walking up towards the source.

The floor that it was the loudest on was in a horrid state. Walls were torn to pieces and there were wooden beams nailed to walls. Someone had been here, clearly. The boy proceeded with caution, knowing that other survivors could possibly be more dangerous. That's why he had a few scars on his arms after all. Humans could be more dangerous than the real threat.

He walked closer to the crying, finding it coming from under a fallen piece of cement. He walked up to it, hearing quicker footsteps of something running after him. Whatever was crying had attracted something else in the dark building, only illuminated by the light coming through the windows.

He smashed the monsters head in, making sure that it was dead a second time. Blood splattered on his pants and the wall, a green-ish paste instead of healthy red. He huffed, wiping some of the splattered fluids off of his face, hating the gross feeling.

He turned around to the chunk, the crying had stopped.

He peered around the wreckage, seeing a small kid that had to be just about his age. There was a bucket on their head, a crude smiley face drawn on it. The other slowly looked up towards him, face unreadable under the metal. "...Hello-" The pinkette hadn't spoken to anyone in awhile, addressing the other.

He heard the sniffling sound they made under the hat of sorts, and put his bat down, reaching a hand around. They weren't speaking to him but grabbed onto his hand, letting himself be pulled up. They were only slightly shorter. Centimeters, maybe even millimeters so.

"Do you... Speak?" Their green sweater was larger than the pink-haired boy first thought, sleeves covering the other's hands fully. He made sure the other child was standing upright, and okay- going to look them over for scratches and bites from the monsters. They were clean.

"...Hi-" They finally talked back to him, fiddling with their bucket. The other boy's voice was soft, and somewhat hoarse. They flinched when the other tried to reach for the bucket, keeping their hands away. "Who you..?-" Their speech wasn't the greatest, and the pinkette tilted his head, putting his hands down as well.

"Blade. Techno Blade" It was a name he had chosen for himself, thinking it was so bad ass for the suburban waste-land he was scouring. He knew this kid wouldn't last long. "How long have you been here?"

"Live there-" They pointed to a door that had wooden beams nailed over it, but a giant hole in the wall. "Parents made... Leave." They kicked at the floor with their sneakers, Techno intrigued by the motion and the apartment. He held his bat up, walking around to the hole in the wall. He poked his head inside, stepping in.

His new companion had a backpack now, just green instead of holding a theme like his own did. "What's your name?" He was all the way through the hole, using the flashlight in his bag to look around. He nearly screamed when something jumped out at him, a little girl that had been infected. He smashed her head in all the same and got a look at the new boy reaching hands under his bucket to cover his mouth.

"...Dr...Drista-" He looked down at the girl, Techno watching a droplet fall from under the bucket and onto the floor. A tear.

"That's your name?-"

"Hers-" He pointed to the girl and then turned around, hugging himself. "Sister... I'm uhm-" Techno couldn't see it, but he could sense the hesitation. "Dream." A code name.

The pinkette nodded, remembering it. "Well- Dream. How old are you?" He took the time to question the new kid to continue looking around.

"...Eight." So the same age as him, partly.

"Me too. I turn nine next month though." He heard groaning and handed the flashlight to Dream, holding his bat up.

The other fumbled with the light before finally righting it and following his new friend. They didn't continue the conversation, instead looking around their own trashed apartment.

Techno saw something shuffling in the corner, watching it lunge for him to attack. He, of course, used the same technique of just straight up smashing its head in. He felt bad, these people were probably the kid's family. "How've you been surviving here so long?-" It was pretty suspicious.

His friend didn't answer again, startling at the new monster that'd come straight for him. Techno hopped in the way and took it down of course, wiping the awful green fluids off of him.

He huffed, turning to the other. "Is that all the people who live here?"

Dream nodded, the motion slow and the tears still falling under the bucket. "Yes..."

"Here. Why don't you go and grab a family photo or something- I'll try and find some extra bags we can put supplies into." Techno had tried a softer approach in it seemed to work, the bucket-head nodding and going off into a separate room.

The pinkette headed over to a bedroom, surprised by the size of the apartment. There was a suitcase inside the closet, bigger than his backpack. The best part was that it had straps to carry just like his bag. He smiled and moved everything from his pokemon knapsack to the suitcase, putting it back over his shoulders. It was large, but it would have to do. He could still run, and that's all that mattered.

He came back out to the main room to see his friend holding a small picture of his family- the monsters before they were monsters. He didn't get to see anyone in the photo, in the split second it was visible before Dream was folding it and putting it in a side pocket.

"Ready to go?-" He was taking this kid with him. He couldn't just leave him here, even if he was against other survivors. There were the overloading adults who thought he was a baby and needed protection, the adults who thought he was a burden and would slow them down but...

He never met another kid though. This would be the turning point. Kids could stick together and quite possibly protect each other. "Are you good with any sort of weapon?-" The kid was quiet and shrugged, leaving the room to go elsewhere.

Techno followed him to find the bucket-head now holding a full-on fire ax. "Can hold and swing." The kid tested it out, chopping off a bedpost. The room must've been him and his sisters, one-half green and the other half yellow.

Techno nodded, smiling. "You know the plan right?" The kid nodded. Everyone had heard it. An emergency broadcast to get to Louisiana and take a boat elsewhere. They were travel buddies now.

The horde stopped for no one, the two kids exiting the apartment to the day-lit street, Techno finding it in himself to smile at the fact he was no longer alone. He had a friend. Them versus the world.

The kid fiddled around in his bag, grabbing a pair of car keys. Most cars had been abandoned and the like, but Techno held hope when the bucket-head gave them to him. "I don't know how to drive. I can't reach the pedals."

"Learn now then." The pinkette shook his head and pressed the button on the key to unlock the car, looking at the mostly destroyed thing.

"...I don't think that can even run." He looked over to his bucket-friend and got a shrug.

"Then... Walk-" Techno nodded, pulling out another jerky stick for a somewhat late breakfast, handing another to the kid. They struggled with the wrapper for a solid minute before the pinkette stepped in, helping them with it. He watched the snack disappear under the bucket, and come back down with a bite taken out of it. "Thanks."

So they walked along, side by side, in the daylight. They were safe from the horde if out in the open, but that wasn't the same for people. Techno's eyes were drawn to a person, decked out in what seemed to be a sort of armor. They spotted him and his bucket friend, shouting into the store.

More people entered the area, staring at the children just across the way. It wasn't too long before they were walking towards Techno and Dream. They were saying things and trying to steal Dream's bucket, to which the kid protested greatly, Techno slapping their wrists and helping the kid right the bucket again. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair underneath the metal.

"There are KIDS. Connor-" A man in a suit was talking, the outfit mostly torn up. Techno frowned and kept his bat out.

"We're not kids, we're just- young." The man stood up, shaking his head.

'Travis! Travis!" He was running off to whoever that was, a tall Irish girl, crouching down in front of them.

"What the fuck are you kids doing here."

"Not kids-"

"Dead family-"

Techno looked back to his companion, getting a shrug. For someone crying barely an hour ago, this kid got over shit fast.

The woman just shook her head and stood up, smacking the bucket on Dream's head and causing him to nearly trip, the bucket spinning around until he put his hands on it to stop it. Techno frowned at the action, not liking these people. He saw a knife on her hip and reached up, expertly slipping it out of it's hilt without her noticing. He stuffed it into his bag, keeping it for later. That would probably come in handy.

Techno nodded toward the lady who had started walking and Dream nodded, both of the kids following her to the other adults.

Dream was walking much slower than before, Techno confused. The kid quickly picked up the pace.

"Look- Minx. I know you don't like kids- I certainly don't. Kids are the fucking worst if I'm being honest with you-" Techno couldn't decide if he hated the girl, or the man in the suit more. "But maybe we should take them with us-"

"Why- they've survived this long-" Minx put a single hand on her hip.

"Yeah, we've survived this long." Techno was piping up, but Dream was silent. "So- we're just gonna be on our way. Nice talking to you, not." He grabbed Dream's wrist through his oversized sweater and dragged his blonde companion away, watching the adults stare at them as they left. "Some people can be assholes, Dream. Make sure you know that." The blonde nodded. He understood.

【- - -】

A whole day had passed since the kids' encounter with the group of adults. They'd wholed up in the back of a grocery store for the night and started munching on a bag of peanuts as breakfast. Dream held the bag while Techno reached in for a handful. It was back on the road, back to trying to make it to Louisiana.

They were able to avoid some stragglers here and there sticking around with the morning sun, watching them screech at the increasing intensity of light and walk away into trees, away and out of sight.

Techno just shook his head at the creepy things. "Wish we had a map. My phone's almost dead so I can't keep checking it." Google Maps had told him that they had reached Alabama already, walking to the West to get to the desired location. His friend was walking too slow for his liking so he elbowed the other in the side. "What's your deal bucket head."

"...Tired?" There was more hesitation in his words, and Techno hated that fact. This kid wasn't sure about anything they did. Techno's eyes were drawn to the handle of the axe sticking out of his friend's backpack, glancing over his shoulder at his baseball bat stored in the same way.

"We just slept."

"Still tired." Dream shoved a few peanuts under his bucket, pulling an empty hand down and back into the bag.

"Physically or mentally?"

"All the ways." They ate another handful, turning to their companion. The pinkette couldn't read their obscured face of course, and struggled to know what the other could possibly be thinking. He noticed his hand full of nuts shaking, but paid no mind. He was a scared kid after all.

Techno sighed, bored out of his mind. "Wanna play a game?"

His companion stopped their feast and looked to the other. "What game."

"I spy. I'll go first- I spy with my little eye... Something green."

The bucket-kid looked around the area before turning back to Techno. "My sweater."

"No."

"Backpack?"

"No."

"That beat up car."

Techno nodded, clapping his hands. "Yeah- it was the car. Good job."

The bucket-head nodded as well, going back to eating his nuts. "I spy... Pink."

Techno looked around for anything relatively pink, calling out the dead flowers, a part of his backpack that had faded from red to pink. It turned out to be his hair that was the subject in question.

"I don't want play anymore." Dream kept eating his nuts and Techno nodded.

"Alright."

He had no idea for what to do next, walking was boring really. No way to go faster unless you wanted to risk running out of stamina just in time for something to come after you, He groaned and rubbed at his face with his hands, smearing a bit of dirt around. They were both incredibly dirty, but that wouldn't be changing.

【- - -】

They'd stopped at a roadside motel that night, managing to just grab a pair of keys from the abandoned office and sharing a room. Techno was amazed by the fact that the shower water was still working. Maybe they'd get to be clean after all. He got himself an idea. "How about- you shower in here to clean up, and I go to another room? We can both shower and- maybe even wash our clothes by drying them out." He unzipped his jacket, folding it up on one of the beds in the room.

Dream nodded and set his backpack down on the other bed, waiting for the other to leave most likely. He nodded and got a separate pair of keys, smiling when he saw that the water worked there too. He had a change of clothes in his bag and laid it out on the bed, taking one of the quickest showers ever. A quick soap up and getting out.

He used the water to soak his dirty clothes, laying them out on the towel rack so that they'd hopefully be dry.

Dressed in his new attire, he knocked on the motel door, being answered by his bucket friend with new jeans, but the same sweater and of course- bucket. "Waiting for clothes to dry."

"Me too." He walked on in, sitting down on one of the two beds in the room. This was probably the nicest place Techno had stayed at since this whole bull shit started. "...Tell me a secret about you." He looked over to his friend that was curled around the bag of nuts from earlier in the day.

"My real name is Clay. I like Dream more because- sounds cool. I tell my friends and teachers to call me it." That probably wasn't much of a secret to anyone except strangers to Dream.

Techno nodded, looking away. "Same here. I'm Dave, but Techno Blade is more badass." He punched the air, smiling again. This got a giggle out of his bucket friend.

"It is- very cool." The blonde nodded, supposedly smiling underneath his shield.

Techno smiled, looking ahead at the wall. "I'm gonna go to bed now. We both should, to get rest tomorrow." He closed his eyes, pulling up the covers. The world wasn't fully shit he supposed, settling down for bed.

He heard Dream to the same and smiled. This kid was a better friend than any of his previous ones.

【- - -】

Days were passing quickly, as if dropping like flies. It'd nearly been a full week from the day Techno first met Dream. He'd gotten the blonde to warm up to him, so happy at the fact that his friend was truly communicating with him now. "Why do you wear the bucket?" They'd stopped at more gas stations on the path way, picking up more protein and even some fruit bars and candy. He popped a peach flavored gummy into his mouth, his brain thanking him for the sugar.

Dream just shrugged. "Shy." That made total sense. His friend liked to walk slow, keep his sentences short. He nodded, kicking at the ground.

"I like it. You look really cool with it on."

His blonde friend started laughing, softly thanking him. "It's my apocalypse gear." He clapped his hands, excited. "And I love it."

Techno nodded. "I love it too- wish I thought of a bucket." He knocked on his friends bucket and they just kept laughing a little bit more, eventually coughing. The fit got really bad, needing to hunch over slightly until he stopped wheezing. 'Eugh... Sorry, Techno."

The pinkette shook his head. "No- no- don't worry about it. Cough all you need man."

He saw the bucket kid nod. "Alright- thanks for-"

"Look! A train- maybe we could get it working." Techno cut him off, having seen the tracks just ahead. He grabbed Dream's wrist, pulling him towards it, nearly there, when they spotted them.

Some daylight walkers were roaming around, the time late enough that they were safe to do so. Techno heard a loud screech, knowing one had noticed them- the kids started running. Techno had his bat out, Dream grabbing his axe. He'd become much more confident around his new friend. They were taking all of them out, things were going good. One got too close to Dream from behind though.

The kid's bucket was knocked off in the scuffle, revealing surprised green eyes, fluffy dirty-blonde hair, and a large scar tracing diagonally from his forehead to chin. It had green and purple around it, infected. The kid was scrambling onto his knees for his bucket, pulling it back over his head.

Techno froze, killing the monster that had caused the bucket to be thrown through the air. "You-"

"No-" The bucket-headed kid was fiddling with their sleeves and looking down at the ground, uneasy. "No."

"You're infected."

"No! I'm not!" It was the first time Dream had raised his voice like that.

"How long- how-" He thought back to when he picked up the other originally. Alone in the building, his entire family infected, him somehow untouched. He must've not been as healthy as he thought.

"..." Dream was quiet, hugging himself, the horde had been taken care of, giving them some time. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry Techno-"

The pinkette heard their sniffles and couldn't help his own. His new friend wasn't going to stay for long. The infection process took a whole week, and if that kid had gotten it on the same day he found him then that meant he could change any day. "Dream..." He didn't want his new friend to go, it was supposed to be them versus the world.

The sweatered boy put his hands on the bucket and gently took it off his head, holding it tightly within his fabric-covered hands. The scar was even worse with a second look at it. Bubbling under the skin right at the line, the rest of his face almost teetering between pale and gray. "I'm... I wish we went to same school- or... anything else."

Techno had crossed multiple states to get here to Florida, that wouldn'tve been possible. But maybe if he had gotten here earlier, or maybe instead of sleeping downstairs he just went up the stairs. He could've done something. "That would've been nice, especially if people weren't dropping like flies to whatever this virus is." Techno rubbed at his eyes, looking around at the nearly setting sun. "...You have two options. Stay out here for the night, or..." He held up the hunting knife he'd snatched from the adults. "I don't have it in me to do it so-" He tossed it to the blonde who was on his knees, surrounded by the smashed undead bodies small group that had attacked them. The knife landed on the asphalt in front of the blonde, his head hung low and staring at it.

"...Techno-" He looked up at his friend, eyes cloudy and grey- quickly whitening. It wasn't any day, it was any second. The blonde hunched over, hugging themself still. "I- if we met under better circumstance..." He shook his head and looked up one last time. "You would've been my best friend."

Techno sniffled and nodded, watching the blonde pick up the knife and wave him away.

"Don't look..." The pinkette did as asked, snatching Dream's backpack and frowning at him before turning away.

Techno spoke over his shoulder but didn't face Dream. "I would've invited you to my birthday party. If we met." Techno shook his head and started walking, closer to the train, only stopping at the sound of metal rolling towards him. Dream's bucket.

Techno sighed and picked it up. He hopped onto the train, finding out that it did indeed still work, and that the papers inside said that the train's route would plant him in Mississippi. He started it up, hearing the train screech against its tracks, roaring to life and starting to move. He pulled the bucket over his own face. He'd remember the kid. He'd survive to keep his memory alive. To a friendship that would've been the best there ever was.

As the train moved, he ran up to one of the windows, seeing his friend lying down in the street. It was supposed to be them versus the world, but now it was just Techno and the memory of Dream. No... The memory of Clay.


	24. Friendships Do Not Die Hard. The Undead Do: Happy End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An alternate ending to the previous drabble

Days were passing quickly, as if dropping like flies. It’d nearly been a full week from the day Techno first met Dream. He’d gotten the blonde to warm up to him, so happy at the fact that his friend was truly communicating with him now. “Why do you wear the bucket?” They’d stopped at more gas stations on the path way, picking up more protein and even some fruit bars and candy. He popped a peach flavored gummy into his mouth, his brain thanking him for the sugar.

Dream just shrugged. “Shy.” That made total sense. His friend liked to walk slow, keep his sentences short. He nodded, kicking at the ground.

“I like it. You look really cool with it on.”

His blonde friend started laughing, softly thanking him. “It’s my apocalypse gear.” He clapped his hands, excited. “And I love it.”

Techno nodded. “I love it too- wish I thought of a bucket.” He knocked on his friends bucket and they just kept laughing a little bit more, eventually coughing. The fit got really bad, needing to hunch over slightly until he stopped wheezing. ‘Eugh… Sorry, Techno.”

The pinkette shook his head. “No- no- don’t worry about it. Cough all you need man.”

He saw the bucket kid nod. “Alright- thanks for-”

“Look! A train- maybe we could get it working.” Techno cut him off, having seen the tracks just ahead. He grabbed Dream’s wrist, pulling him towards it, nearly there, when they spotted them.

Some daylight walkers were roaming around, the time late enough that they were safe to do so. Techno heard a loud screech, knowing one had noticed them- the kids started running. Techno had his bat out, Dream grabbing his axe. He’d become much more confident around his new friend. They were taking all of them out, things were going good. One got too close to Dream from behind though.  
The kid’s bucket was knocked off in the scuffle, revealing surprised green eyes, fluffy dirty-blonde hair, and a large scar tracing diagonally from his forehead to chin. The kid was scrambling onto his knees for his bucket, pulling it back over his head.

Techno tilted his head, confused. "What was that-" He snatched the bucket from the kid, getting angry protests. That's all it was, a scar on his skin that he seemed to be embarrassed of. "You don't wear the bucket because you're shy- you wear it to cover that." He pointed at him, keeping the bucket out of reach.

Dream looked so frustrated, huffing and trying to reach for his bucket. "Yeah- now give it back-"

Techno obliged, smiling. "It's not that bad y'know- if anything it makes you look badass." 

Dream just shrugged, frowning under his bucket, following his friend the rest of the way to the train. They filed in, reading the manual and excited that it had actually worked. It'd take them all the way to Mississippi.

"I know it won't be the most conventional but… You're invited to my birthday, Dream." He looked at his friend, and then the trees blurring past through the windows.

"I'll get you a awesome gift."


	25. Friendships Do Not Die Hard. The Undead Do: Art Showcase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SOMEONE DREW FANART OKAY- I APPRECIATE FANART FOR EVERYTHING.
> 
> (If you ever do make fanart and want to send me something then email me at sulphiechan@gmail.com or DM me on discord SulphieChan#8326)

AN AMAZING PERSON [CherryGeko](https://www.wattpad.com/user/CherryGeko) IN THE DREAMNOBLADE DISCORD SERVER JOIN HERE:  
  
<https://discord.gg/zX9EvnHWYp>  
  
Drew me some AMAZING art for the drabbles  
  
  
  


  


  
  
AGAIN, THIS IS THEIR AMAZING ART. I LOVE THEM AND THEY'VE MADE ME SMILE SO MANY TIMES BECAUSE OF 'BUCKET KID'


	26. Shot Down Where You Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 882 Words

A public execution. They demanded that everyone know who they’d caught. Demanded that everyone see it happen. 

The hands of their prisoner were bound with rope behind his back, face solemn and covered in scars. He knew what this meant, and he was ready for it, no matter how much fight or flight responses wanted to protest, he kept both down. It’d only end in more pain. Coming quietly was the most merciful way.  
  
Everyone knew how the world worked. You got three lives. They were going to strip him of one, or all. He was uncertain, and despite his calm stature, he was shaking.   
  
“People of L’manburg!” The fox was speaking to the crowd, addressing all the folks that wanted to see blood spilt. “Today we mark down in our calendars as the day we have caught that bloody traitor!” They held a torch in one hand, waving the fire in the air with each word, screaming at the people. Yelling and trying to get them to respond to their calls. “Are we ready to give this traitor what he deserves!”   
  
There was an uproar of shouts, all in favor. They wanted a life knocked off, they wanted this felon to be that much closer to permanent erasure.

He huffed, hanging his head low, preparing himself for whatever was to come.

"I can't hear you fellow citizens! Are we ready for this traitor to get what he deserves!"

The audience was louder, some people standing out of their seats and waving their hands.

"Since he slaughtered us on the day of the Festival, and released those withers within our walls… It's only fair we do the same!" The fox held up a crossbow the a rocket loaded into the mechanism. The tip of the projectile was coated- smeared with a black substance. 

A small blonde child, with an uneasy brunette by his side, came up and pushed the traitor down to kneel. He looked up at them, defiant, but making no moves to escape.

The children were replaced with the explosive projectile, and a count down went off.

It was colorful, oh so bright. So pretty, shards of light scattering around, embers of red and blue and white coating the traitors clothing.

It was then extremely painful.

The wither effect had been applied to the projectile itself. Not only did the blast knock the wind and fighting spirit out of him, but the wither effect was now going to finish him off.

He sighed, coughing and choking. It worked like cyanide, but rushing through his system faster. It deprived every blood cell of oxygen, forcing him to choke on air. He eventually fell to his side, body dissipating into a cloud of smoke.

He woke up in a bed, not even four feet from where he had died, concealing fear. They grabbed him again, and shot him again.

The same thing happened, falling over and dying.

He woke up a final time, staring down the barrel of that crossbow. He hadn't said a word all day, but watching the fox load the final rocket, he knew it was time to speak his two cents. "Look- Fundy." His voiced shook and so did his hands. "I-"

He didn't get to finish because an arrow came out of nowhere, piercing the fox's neck, and causing him to die. 

The traitor looked towards the source of the arrow, a hooded and masked man riding in the back of a horse, another arrow was loaded into his bow. "Techno!-" He rode onto the stage, getting the traitor to grab his hand and hop on the back. He handed the reigns to the new rider, turning around and aiming.

The blonde child, dodged the arrow that was heading his way and started yelling something to the other people that were watching the massacre.

"Geez Techno- you had me scared to death! What the fuck!" The man took the reigns back from the traitor, whipping them and riding off into the trees, trying to lose the mob that was certain to be headed for them. "You nearly got yourself killed! I didn't even hear about your execution until all of two minutes ago!"

The pinkette was just shocked, the steady jostle of the horse galloping the only thing reminding him that he was still alive. "You crazy bastard-" He was addressing his savior, scared for their safety now. "What were you thinking!-"

"No- I should be the one asking that question." The masked man shook his head, throwing his arm out to the side and hitting something as they rode past. "You decided to go and get yourself caught."

"I didn't plan on getting caught! I'm not that stupid!-"

The hooded figure made a noise of irritation, pinching the bridge of their nose. "You're such a fucking dumbass. I'm going to go by and rig the town with explosives tomorrow."

"Just after I got caught? You're the dumbass here." The pinkette was coming back to his rightful senses.

"Can't just have you being the only wanted man."


	27. An Undying Relationship Versus the End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4877 Words

It had turned out to be a lie. Louisiana being the place of refuge. It was to kill off more people on the American continent, devised by the horrible people who had started the virus outbreak to begin with. Trying to wipe the Earth clean.  
  
Dream and Techno had taken one look at the carnage that laid on the ferry docking station and knew they needed to leave.   
  
That was a few years ago.  
  
The world is still shit.

Techno yawned, stretching his arms above his head. He opened the shutter blinds, looking out of the place he and his companion had finally settled down in. There were a few monsters still roaming around so he closed them. "Dream."  
  
He got no response, just the sounds of a video game playing. They'd managed to find a backup generator and hook a few things up to it to create power on their own. It took a lot of work, but they eventually got it.  
  
"Dream."  
  
There was still no response, just the sound of gum being chewed- bubbles popped.   
  
"Clay."  
  
"Dave." The pinkette scoffed when the blonde finally answered.  
  
The pinkette scoffed when the blonde finally answered. "Why didn't you answer me the first time-" He looked over to his companion, laying out on one of the makeshift beds in the trailer they'd found that hadn't been totally trashed. He played away on a handheld Gameboy looted from an abandoned house.  
  
"Cause I didn't want to." The other's bucket was set on a table in the trailer, emerald eyes looking into Techno's. "Simple as that."   
  
Techno's eyes were drawn to the scar on the blonde's exposed face before looking away, standing up from the window and his own makeshift bed. "Well, I'd appreciate it if you answered the first time-" He went to take off his shirt and heard a metallic sound- looking toward the source he saw that Dream had put his bucket onto his head. "What-"  
  
He got no response again and rolled his eyes, picking from the drawer he'd declared would hold his clothes. He'd grown out of his jacket and frowned when he saw it, pulling it out and holding it up. He brushed his hands over the dirty fabric, having an overwhelming feeling of longing. He was brought out of his trance by loud fanfare  
  
"What the hell-"  
  
"Finished the game." The blonde set the Gameboy down on the table and rolled over onto his back, making sure his bucket was still in place. "What's the plan for today."  
  
"Survive."  
  
"We do that every day-" Dream sat up, lifting up the underside of his bucket to stare at the other, only to immediately drop it again. "Put a goddamn shirt on! No one wants to see that!-"   
  
Techno just rolled his eyes and pulled on a stupid little T-shirt. "There's only you around-"  
  
"Exactly." The blonde threw his hands up in the air. "You're my best friend, but I will not tolerate you shirtless." He stood up, walking around to the fridge inside the trailer that they'd managed to get working. He grabbed a single bottle of water, spinning to his left to grab a small snack package of peanuts. "Also we need to go on a supply run soon." He punctuated his sentence by popping his gum under the bucket and just barely lifting it up enough to spit it into the trash.  
  
Techno nodded, moving to change his pants.  
  
"No."  
  
The pinkette looked over to the bucket-head staring at him, even though he knew the blonde couldn't see through that metal. "What do you mean 'No'?"  
  
"I'm going outside." The blonde took his drink and snack, popping a hatch that was on the roof of the trailer and going to sit on top by climbing the small rope ladder that they'd rigged to drop down when the hatch was opened.

Techno just shook his head, not understanding his friend in the slightest. All dressed up and ready to run out, he pulled on the replacement jacket he'd found the last time they'd gone out. The abandoned mall had a shit ton of items in it, and clothes were one of those things.  
  
Sure it didn't have the large pockets anymore, but it was comfy. A crimson red bomber jacket with white hems. It made him feel like he was supposed to be on a football team or something, the resemblance to a jock's varsity jacket. Well- he never went to high school, so he only knew from the movies. "Dream!" He shouted up at the hatch while keeping his eyes on his shoes. Pulling them over the cleanest pair of socks he owned. Cleanest meant covered in dirt, but smelling perfectly fine. "I'm gonna head out!"  
  
"I can hear you- don't have to shout." The blonde was partly muffled due to the space between them and the bucket present on his head. "Also- you need a haircut."  
  
"What-" Techno frowned, sure it was nearly reaching the backs of his knees but- it wasn't that long. Or was it- he couldn't tell. He gathered it all in one hand and picked from his selection of hair ties, braiding it to keep it out of his way. It was a hassle, and maybe he did need a haircut. "I don't trust you to cut it-"  
  
"You don't have to-" The voice had moved further away, outside the door, Techno able to watch through the window. He saw his friend roll up the cuffs of his jeans and walk into the lake their makeshift home was right next to. He set his bucket on a nearby rock, along with his hoodie, wading out until the water was just under his knees.

Techno thought for a moment before grabbing the pair of scissors they kept and just chopping until it was just at his shoulders. He sighed, picking up the giant braid and was confused on what to do with it. He didn't really think this through too well.

He ended up throwing it into the trash bag they used for a trash can, checking what he looked like in the mirror the trailer had in the bathroom. He reminded himself of when he was a kid, re-using his hair tie to pull it into a ponytail.

He sighed, pushing away from the mirror to be met with the kitchen. The place was small, but they both didn't mind, it's all the room they needed. Something bigger would just be easier to clutter.

His eyes were drawn to the window again, watching his friend stand in the lake, holding his bucket. Techno shook his head, grabbing his suitcase and baseball bat that he'd added nails to. "I'm heading out. You coming with?"

The words caught the blonde's attention, getting him to turn towards the other. "I'll stay here, hold down the base." He shifted his weight over from one foot to the other, and back again- idle movements, idle stretches.

Techno sighed, thinking. This whole thing, living within the apocalypse. The way they had a little home of their own was just... Domestic. As if they'd achieved normalcy for once. He nodded to Dream, walking out to the road and away from the trailer.

The blonde standing in the lake put his hands on his cheeks, patting himself a few times. "Get a grip, Clay." He shook his head, hugging himself. "What the hell is wrong with you."

He sat down in the water, not minding the fact he was now soaking wet. The water was cold- exactly what he needed. The small blush on his face was slowly dying down, and he slid forward until he was nearly submerged. The water gently tickled at his cheeks, laying over all of him except for his face. "You need to get yourself together."

The clouds were all shaped like hearts, Dream frowned. He rolled over, water cascading off of him until it was a steady trickle of drops. "Get a grip, get it together- how else do I say it."

His eyes drifted over to his bucket and he stood up from the lake. The water was immense, clothes clinging to his figure, itchy, cold and wet. Dream gently placed the bucket onto his head, his vision obscured, only able to see his bare feet.

He shook his head, grabbing his hoodie and walking back to the trailer. He knew he had time before Techno would be back and made a B-line for his own storage of clothes.

It was only when he was no longer dripping did he even attempt to pull off his clothes, succeeding with only the smallest mutters of pain. It was hard to get the shirt over his bucket, but he managed anyway.

When he was mostly dry and warm in his new change of clothes, he took his bucket off of his head.

Dream stared at himself in the grimy metal reflection. He looked almost normal, frowning at the view of his ugly scar. He traced his fingernail along it, upsetting himself. Sure Techno had said he didn't mind but, Dream couldn't help but feel that he was lying.

The scar was an eyesore on his face, out of place and overall dragging his mood down.

He sat at the sort of table the trailer had inside, setting the bucket down and picking up his Gameboy. His game hadn't saved and so he would have to beat it again.

He sighed, laying his head down on the cold table, looking across the room. He had nothing to do when Techno wasn't home. Nothing to do when the pinkette was gone.

All he had was himself to keep him busy. His mind didn't interpret that thought well, causing him to blush and hug his bucket, embarrassed. "...Techno." He practiced saying it, hearing his voice slightly wobble.

"Techno..." It did it again and he couldn't help but feel as if it sounded like a whine. He pulled on the collar of his black shirt, all of a sudden feeling a little too hot. "What's wrong with me-" He stared into his reflection again, asking it- daring it to answer his question. It wouldn't of course, so he groaned, hitting his head against the table multiple times.

He was only pulled out of his thoughts by a shout. The only thing that would make that noise was a person.

He was quick to grab his bucket and his ax from right beside the door, hopping up and over to a small little ledge that made a compartment similar to that of airplane storage. He tucked himself into it, holding his ax up, ready to strike if needed. The bucket helped obscure his face, and due to wearing it all the time, his hearing had gotten better.

"Look- shelter. We can probably stay there-"

"That looks like the perfect place for those- those creatures to be hiding!-" They sounded older than being teenagers or children. Dream tightened his grip on the ax handle.

There was a reason why he and Techno never joined any adults, and that's not just because they can be dicks. He blonde inhaled sharply hearing the door to the trailer open, he slipped his hands up and down the handle of the ax.

He lifted the bucket off of his head slightly, looking down at the people underneath him. They were full-grown adults.

"Looks like people have been living here-"

"Wait- do you see the size of this?" They held up Techno's old jacket, turning it around.

"Kids?"

"That's what it seems like." Dream watched their hands run over nearly everything in the trailer, feeling disgusted. He squeaked and immediately pushed a hand over his mouth under the bucket. "Did you hear that-"

"Kid- if you're here, we just want you to know that we won't hurt you." Wouldn't hurt him, his ass. He frowned under the bucket, tucking into himself slightly- watching them pick up his Gameboy. "You like games?"

Of course he liked games, he was still eight years old at heart. He never had anyone around to tell him how to grow upright. Though, he'd probably still like games anyway.

They'd gone silent, staring at each other and having a conversation with just their eyes. They nodded, beginning to search the place. "Kid- come out. We promise we won't hurt you-" It sounded different than the first time. "Kid- stop playing these games and come out-"  
  
What games- he wasn't playing any games he- he was just hiding so he wouldn't get hurt. He didn't like getting hurt.

Tears started to trail down his face underneath the bucket, silent while he hugged the ax to his chest- careful not to cut himself. He shifted just so- his bucket tinging against the wall.  
  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
'Came from up there-" Dream's tears were falling faster- and he didn't know what to do. The little slide door that was in front of him opened and he shifted as far from them as he could.  
  
"There you are- come on down. We won't hurt you kiddo." He wasn't a kid, he was a teenager. Sure his growth spurt never really happened like Techno's had, but he was due to grow taller any day now. "C'mon-" They were getting impatient, he just tried to scoot even further.  
  
It was when hands reached up and tried to drag him down that he squealed under his bucket, kicking at them. He didn't want any fucking adults around him. They grabbed his legs and dragged him down onto the ground, his body crumbling with a thud. He'd have a bruise on his arm later, but at least his bucket hadn't fallen off.   
  
He was scared and he was clutching the spot he fell on, looking up at the adults blindly. He couldn't see them through the metal alloy, but he knew they were there. "Kid- what are you doing here on your own- how old are you-" He wasn't answering those questions, just curling up.  
  
They took off his bucket and his world stopped. He was too busy panicking about them to realize it had even happened. He flew a hand to his face- covering the scar. These people didn't need to see it. "What the hell is that-"  
  
"I think that's a scratch- I think the kid is turning-"  
  
He couldn't find it in himself to correct them, to say it was just a scar- something he had before all the apocalypse shit had started. He couldn't tell them- he sniffled.  
  
"Look- kid. Instead of going through a painful process of losing yourself and then turning we can... We can put you out of your misery.  
  
He wasn't in any pain- and he wasn't going to be turning. He had survived this long and he was going to keep doing it till natural causes took their toll. "What's your name, kiddo?" He wanted them to stop calling him kid. He wasn't a kid- he was grown up now. He stopped being a kid when he was thirteen.  
  
He shifted away from them, snatching his bucket back and putting it over his head. "L-leave me alone." He managed to choke the words out- but they were laced with tears and hiccups. He wasn't crying over the situation, he was crying over the people. He truly did not want them to hurt him- but past experiences were taking control right now.

  
"You could hurt someone if you stay around." Dream wasn't listening to them, slowly reaching behind himself for his ax. Fight or flight was kicking in, and he was not in a position to run.  
  
"No-"  
  
"Yes you could-"  
  
"No!-" He took his hand off his face and scrambled to stand up, holding his ax in both hands. "You- don't know what you're talking about." He was gaining confidence the more they tried to tell him about killing him. The more that they misunderstood.  
  
"We do understand, kid- you're infected and need to be taken out."  
  
He was going to answer again, but he didn't have to- Techno opening the door to the trailer, slightly shocked. "Who are you, and why are you here." His bat was in his hand and he could see Dream's panic.   
  
"This kid is infected- he needs to-"  
  
"He's not infected! It's a fucking scar!-" Techno threatened them with his bat so he could move to stand by Dream. "He's had it since before the whole apocalypse even started." Techno wasn't going to explain, mostly because even he didn't know about the origin of the scar. They just needed to get out. Techno put an arm around Dream's shoulder and the blonde was slowly calming from his adrenaline and panic. "I suggest you leave before I make you leave."   
  
The two adults just frowned. "But it looks infected-"  
  
"But it's NOT. Get out!" He pushed at the adults, getting them to back away. "If I see you around here again, I know that you're survivors and we're all in the same boat- but it's not going to be those monsters you need to worry about. It's me-"   
  
The two looked at each other and nodded, leaving the trailer. Techno turned toward Dream, dropping his bat and grabbing the other's shoulders. "Are you alright? I know you hate adults- I'm sorry I wasn't here." He was just blabbering on and on and on and on.  
  
Dream huffed and forced himself to smile, face flushing slightly. "Don't worry about it- honestly, I was about to put an ax in their heads." That's a lie, he wouldn't be able to do that. It was more of a threat, a bluff.  
  
Techno nodded, hugging his smaller friend. "You're still tiny."  
  
"I just haven't hit my growth spurt yet!" The blonde protested and they both smiled and laughed, returning to their little bubble of normalcy.

  
【- - -】  
  


The blonde huffed, staring at the other. "How am I supposed to get up there!" His friend had managed to climb a tree and Dream was lost on what to do. The other just shrugged, leaning over so that he could extend an arm down.

Dream was cautious but he grabbed the hand, yelping when it pulled him up to enough force so that his bucket had fallen into the dirt and not been brought up with him. He frowned and smacked Techno on the back of the head, more upset than angry. "Ow-"  
  
"What the hell, Techno!" The blonde stared down at the bucket that was close to rolling into the lake and whined. He didn't know how to get down. "My bucket-"

"Your bucket is fine, bucket-kid." Techno smiled at him, leaning back on the branch they were using as a seat.   
  
"I'm sixteen- I'm not a kid anymore." It was true, the two were taller and although they still acted like the eight-year-olds they met as, they had definitely grown up.

"You're a kid until you're eighteen. That's how the law works." Dream rolled his eyes at his friend's words, finally taking the time to appreciate the view from the tree.   
  
The cacti, dead grass, dead bushes, and sandy dirt of Arizona stretched as far as the eye could see. They only stopped for the mountains and towns in the distance, along with the road. It was the place they found their trailer, and it was an advantageous location for the situation. There was no cover for any of the monsters to sneak out of, and if they had come out this far they'd find it hard to get to any sort of shade.

It was pretty, and the setting-sun was hiding somewhat behind the distant Superstitions. The orange and yellow rays reflected off the lake and casted an angelic glow onto the teenagers sitting in the tree. The blonde found himself biting off any added complaints and just enjoying what he was seeing.

He was blushing, and he didn't even realize it. Didn't realize that he was sitting close enough to Techno, close enough that they had rested their hands side by side. It would take the smallest bit of effort to hold the other's hand, but the blonde decided against it.

That'd be weird.

It'd be strange of him to hold Techno's hand. It'd make him seem like a loser or something, an idiot even.

He didn't have any more time to mentally degrade himself before a warm hand was inside his own. He looked down at the scarred skin contrasting against the faded lime green of his sleeve. He looked up to the other, a smile appearing in his vision. He looked away and back at the sun. It was kind of romantic, something from a movie, he didn't know anything besides what was in the movies anyway. "It's beautiful."

"Mhm." The pinkette smiled slightly wider, holding up their interlaced hands. "S'probably the prettiest thing I've seen since the apocalypse started... Nature is still around us- it's just... Different. It has a different meaning now, and its beauty isn't something we should take for granted..." Techno put their hands down, staring at his lap and then the disappearing sun. "Thought you might like to see it, the tree has the best view."

Dream listened to Techno, entranced by the last shimmers of light over the valley, finally fading out. He looked at the equally gorgeous moonlight, and the way it outlined his friend's silhouette, and left his features in the shadows from behind. "I love it."

"I'm glad."

【- - -】

"Dream."  
  
"Hmmm?" The dirty-blonde looked over to his friend. "What is it?"  
  
"Do you think we're... Ever getting out of this kind of world..?" The pinkette was laying on the ground in his bed, staring at the ceiling of the trailer. Techno had certainly grown over the years, Dream having had a massive growth spurt, now perfectly matching him in height. They were adults now, adults in a new world they came into as kids instead of infants.

The blonde flicked a marble across the table, letting it hit his other hand to flick it back. "I dunno, Techno." He stopped rolling the marble around, crossing his arms on the tabletop and using them as a pillow. "We've been here for so long, I don't think things are going to change. It's been 12 years."

"You've been counting?"

"How else do you think I remember your birthday." The blonde turned to look at his companion, smiling softly. He never did find out what he thought was wrong with him, but he did have guesses.  
  
"Well..." He looked over to the singular clock that was in the trailer, the hands ticking and marking midnight. "Happy Birthday to me then." He closed his eyes, relaxing.  
  
The dirty blonde's face was slightly flushed and he fought the urge to pick up his bucket. He'd never get rid of it, and it still fit over his face- so there was no reason to throw it out. "...What do you want for your gift."

Techno took a moment to himself, thinking. "I want you to tell me a story."   
  
The blonde was silent. The only sound was the distant groaning of the monsters still walking the Earth. He finally spoke up. "What kind of story."  
  
"How'd you get the scar on your face, Dream?" The pinkette picked at the blanket, waiting for an answer.

That answer didn't come for a long while. The clock's idle ticking was able to be heard in contrast to the groans and crickets. "I'll tell you the story if you answer a question I have." The blonde slipped away from the table to lay next to Techno, staring off at the wall. He gently wrapped his arms around the other, sighing. It was now or never for him. "You're my best friend, right?"

"I'd normally say yes, but this seems somewhat like a trap." Techno hooked a singular arm around the other, yawning. They always stayed up till midnight together for their birthdays. "What is it, Dream."  
  
"Clay."  
  
"What?" Techno looked over at the other, faces inches apart. His eyes met Dream's for a second before sliding to the scar.  
  
"Call me Clay for this, makes it seem more personal." The blonde couldn't bare eye contact and stared over at the kitchen counter, just a few feet from where they laid together.  
  
"Okay. What is it, Clay?" Techno was close to drifting off, but forced himself to stay awake. To answer Dream's question, and to get to know the story behind the scar.  
  
"...I've liked you. Since we were fourteen and living in this trailer." His eyes still weren't on Techno, he just didn't have it in him to look. This'd either destroy everything, or it'd make everything the slightest bit better.  
  
"Yeah I like you too, though I'm kinda sad it took you 6 years to like me. If I didn't like you I would've probably left you in the apartment building- I didn't hate you or anything when we met- what, did you hate me?" The pinkette understood it wrong, ranting off about how his best friend didn't like him.

Dream sighed and frowned, rolling over so that his back was to Techno. He cut the other off in his spiel. "Great. Good to know." He was too tired to be sad right now, it'd hit him in the morning. "Good night."

"No- hold on-" Techno slid over slightly so that he was resting his chin on the blonde's shoulder, staring down at a face that was not looking at him. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah. I am. Good night."  
  
"No- you still owe me a story." Of course. Dream had the slightest hope that maybe interrupting his attempt to sleep had meant he'd say something else on the topic of liking- no... Loving him actually. Not to his surprise though, it was just for his scar.

"I got a broken glass bottle to the face from some thugs hanging out by the highschool. I was five. The highschool didn't have the best reputation for having nice students and I used to have to walk past it everyday to get home from school. That's why I'm uneasy around adults. There, your story. Goodnight." He ignored the other's body pressed against his own and closed his eyes, sighing.

"Hmmm... A glass bottle might've shattered your face, but I won't shatter your heart." The pinkette spoke as if it was a fact and the blonde was now staring at the wall infront of him.

"What."

"Yeah, that was a horrible pickup line. Goodnight." Techno rolled over so they were back to back now.

"...Pickup line?-" The blonde moved to stare at the back of Techno's neck, turning so that his body went with him. He didn't fully know what a pickup line was, but he knew it had something to do with dating or hookups. He honestly didn't know what hookups were though.

"Yeah. A pickup line- but you're somehow upset with me and it was bad so- forget it."  
  
"No-" Dream pouted, furrowing his eyebrows until Techno was facing him. "I'm not going to forget it. Why would you try to use a pickup line on me-" He was just confused. He didn't understand one bit.  
  
"Cause I like you, remember."  
  
"Yeah- I know that. But aren't pickup lines supposed to be for like- people you love or whatever- like for marriage and stuff." It was at times like these that their lack of a middle school and high school education was clear. A crash course on life that they missed out on too.  
  
Techno shrugged. "Even if it was, I don't take it back."

For a second, the blonde saw a small boy in front of him instead of the pink-haired adult. Just his best friend and the only kid who approached him to talk instead of make fun of him for wearing a bucket to cover the injury. "What the hell is that supposed to mean."

"Means I like you- how they do in the movies." Dream was reminded of the fact that it wasn't just him who was clueless about nearly everything. "Like the romance books and stuff- like Romaro and Julie- whatever their names were by that old guy who made plays. They like- kissed and stuff in that book because they liked each other. Right?"

Dream nodded. "Yeah- I think. Cause, I like you like that."  
  
"Well, I like you like that too-"  
  
Dream kept himself quiet for a whole minute. "Like me- like the kissing and stuff liking?"

Techno nodded. "Yeah- the kissing and stuff-"   
  
There was silence between both of them for a minute before Dream leaned forward to gently peck Techno on the lips and retreat by turning his back to the pinkette. He was flushed all the way to his neck and gripping the blanket as if his life depended on it. His friend was silent and Dream was starting to think he did something wrong, turning around only to get a kiss planted on his own lips that lasted longer than his quick peck and go. He was frozen and apparently so was his friend.

"...Could you do that again- Dave" His brain was short-circuiting.

"Alright, Clay."


	28. In and Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 498 Words

His stress- a solution. A solution all knew of but some refused to fall to. The boy reached out, wanting to hold it- to claim some of it for his own. But he couldn't. He’d have to steal it.

Looking around, he was lost in a sea of people wanting to do the same and- his world was crumbling. Buildings were ruined and the mental city had smog in the skies. He sniffed, knowing what had made the scent, knowing the telltale sound of the flick of a lighter.

The city, the town- all the people were pressing the paper to their lips and going off, breathing it all in and forcing it all out. Their lungs spasmed when doing so, but they fought through the small hiccup. Getting their fix as they always did.

He stared down at his hands, his own cigarette laying on one palm- a lighter in the other. He needed to join the collective, the items urged him to follow what the others had done before him- what the others were still doing.

Temptation came before reason, paper in between his own lips and lighter flicking away. He was not an individual, he was part of the collective, initiated with the practice.

In and out, one ever so harder than the other- and one ever so easier to do a thousand times over.

But there was a single person not in the crowd. A boy just as young as himself.

He flicked his finger against the paper, embers and ash gently falling to the ground. The fire raged on inside of the little stick though, burning the grounds for inhalation of the gas they created.

He found himself walking to the other boy, hand in his pocket and temptation between his lips. They looked up at him, bright red eyes. “That stuff is bad for you.”

“I know.” It was choked, hoarse. He’d already stuck himself into the cycle and the repercussions were in place. The consequences of smoke stained lungs had been set in place and would worsen until he found a way to break out.

“You’re anxious. That’s why you do it, right?” The boy patted the spot on the sidewalk next to him, the tarnished child taking the seat.

“...Yeah.”

“Well… Stop.” Ruby eyes were locked with vibrant emeralds, a statement- a command.

Neither. A suggestion.

“I wish I could.” Another flick at the paper, black ash staining the concrete. “I’ve tried. But I always go back.”

“...You have me.” A statement, a command.

Neither. A reassurance.

He threw the stick onto the ground, grinding against it with his shoe until it was a crumbled pile of addiction. He was already itching for another, rubbing at his arms. “I have you.” He leaned his head onto the other boy’s shoulder, evening his breaths. While his fingers wanted to grab another, his heart kept him grounded next to the only person who bothered to get him out of the rut.

Maybe he could leave the cycle.


	29. Approval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1614 Words

That's all he wanted, all that the blonde wanted. Approval from his friends, approval from his mentors, from his idols. He got it from his fans, and it meant a lot to him- but the others, the other options that were on the table.

His hands subconsciously clenched into fists and he swallowed, throat tight. The blonde shivered, the Arctic cold as he had walked up to Techno's house. He needed to put on his act, he needed to play the villain.

"I know he's here, Techno." It had worked, he'd started the conversation, and bickered with the man- and then the other brought up housing. Dream was nomadic, he hadn't really gotten a house of his own. He'd just stayed in the community house the entire time. He huffed, not letting it show how much the topic had slightly affected him, quipping back about how he actually had the biggest secret base in the entire world.

It was a lie of course, but it had worked to get him away.

Chopping down trees, he sighed, knowing he was a great distance from Techno's cottage. He wasn't homeless he just- didn't have a place to settle down it- it was different.

It was so much different from being homeless. He had chosen to live life on the run, never staying in one place- but now? Maybe he really did need a place to call his own.

He huffed, having run a good deal away from Techo's house and started with a small cobblestone foundation. Yeah, he was gonna have the biggest base. Or- he already did. Yeah, Techno would have to think he did.

He frowned seeing he ran out of cobble and went to bite at his finger nails, immediately putting his hand back down and pulling out his dirt. It was just a place holder. He'd make it wood later if he liked the design.

With his crafting table outside, and his small little hut created, he felt a glimmer of something in his heart. Happiness. Maybe Techno would like it. 

No, who was he kidding. It was a cobblestone and dirt hut- it's grow fucking grass on the top with time.

He was only drawn out of his thoughts by a creeper showing up behind him and creating a hole in what was now his front yard. 

He'd sighed and repaired it, shoving the snow off the top of his crafting table to make stairs with the wood he'd collected. Maybe if he added a design people would like it more.

He'd started to place the stairs along the roof, upside down to add a sort of lip, some dimension to the exterior. He placed the first one wrong- and then the second- and then the third. He just broke them all, huffing and looking away to see yet another creeper. 

He punched this one in its green face before chopping its head off with his axe. He hadn't even noticed that it was night time. "Fuck." He thought he heard snickering on the tree line and spun around, only to see he was alone.

The blonde tightened his grip on his axe handle, feeling as if he was being watched. There was no one there, and he ducked into his house.

The ceiling was low to the ground and he found himself just barely able to stand fully upright, if he was an inch taller his head would be hitting the roof. He just sighed, sitting and placing a few necessities. A crafting table, chest, and ender chest.

His next most important set of business was signs. He put one above his ender chest, carefully inscribing something on it.

_"Dream's Evil Lair"_

Perfect.

He'd made it so he had three rooms. The main area with his crafting table and storage, which maybe he could put a couch in there or something, and two side rooms. He declared on as his bathroom, giving it a sign, too. A placeholder to remind himself of what to put there.

_"Dream's Evil Bedroom"_

Oh, it was so good. Techno would love it, everyone would love it. He just knew they would, smiling under ceramic and humming a single note. A note of approval, given by himself.

But his own approval didn't matter to him.

_"Dream's Evil Bathroom"_

In the grand scheme of things, it was everyone else. They mattered, what they thought about his secret base and- he shook his head, making another sign and a few wood slabs. It was perfect, adding the slabs around the base of dirt and cobblestone outside. The inside would get more of an upgrade later, all the mattered was the exterior.

He hung the sign up on the door.

_"NO TRESPASSING ALLOWED. (Technoblade too)"_

Yeah, that'd tell people. They could only come in if they had his permission. That way they didn't see the incomplete inside. Yeah- yeah. It was foolproof and perfect.

He slipped over to his front-yard crafting table, combining a few miscellaneous items into a sort of notebook. The quill flew off the pages, writing in a sort of bulky cursive, but dotting every 'i' with a heart instead of the usual pen prick.

_"Dear diary, today I worked on my house. Tomorrow, I want to build a basement! It's going to be the biggest base ever!"_

When he finished, he kept the book in one hand, placing fences along the outsides of the slabs.

The book was put into his chest, a wider smile than he'd ever had before hiding under his mask. A basement would be a perfect addition, and keeping a log of his progress would be perfect.

He could show it to people, show them what he accomplished in how much time he did it.

But would they care?

Another creeper had appeared and he'd been spooked, jumping onto the roof of his own house- through a hole the explosion had created. He looked down, frowning at the fact that some of his hard work had been destroyed.

But it was okay. He quickly reminded himself that he could repair it, replacing the dirt that had been broken. Yeah, it was fine- all patched up.

He looked back towards the tree line, catching a glimpse of something red, but passing it off as a chicken roaming around. He only then realized some eggshells on one of his netherite shoulder guards. He didn't understand where it came from, looking around. There was no one there.

He just sighed, going and passing through back into his house, sitting by the enderchest. How could he make his house better how could he- diamonds.

The diamond blocks were in his hands, maybe riches would be impressive, maybe Techno- maybe everyone would like to see his cool treasures.

He started replacing the dirt with the solid chunks of diamond, humming as he worked.

He'd been interrupted several times by more creepers, eventually giving up and just going to sit inside his house.

There were so many destructive monsters, a few zombies from the next night making their way inside. He put up with being attacked, practicing showing off his house to the undead. They didn't respond or anything of course, but he could pretend.

"And this is my bathroom." He got no words back, just grumbles and moaning of the deceased. "Yes, I did build this all by myself- it took me so long." It had probably only been an hour.

He'd taken a minute, looking at the fact he was speaking to a true zombie, and a turned villager. 

What was he doing.

He put his hands on the side of his head, walking out and staring at his house, snow covering the roof and even his yard. That's what he did, he built his house in a snowy biome there was going to be snow he- he shoveled the snow away, picking it up. He didn't like it he didn't-

He placed a piece of TNT by accident.

Okay. He had a new plan.

His placeholder friends, the zombies, had attacked him enough that they died from the thorns on his armor. His house had been blown up by multiple creepers it-

He was placing it all in a line, a sort of fuse that he'd get to light and watch it all crumble. All of the hardwork over ther past hour or so be reduced to a crater. It'd be great.

His mind thought it would be great, but his heart didn't agree. He over powered the protests, stepping back and drawing his bowstring, arrow nocked and aim set on one of the dynamite bundles.

He let it loose, basking in the sounds the explosions and small fires starting that were immediately snuffed out by cold air. His smile had dropped and a sort of scroll had appeared in the air. The same bulky cursive, the same hearts for dots.

_"To Technoblade._   
_I destroyed my giant secret base I told you about to build another on much larger. I'll show you one day."_

He rolled the paper up, throwing it into the air and watching it ignite into flame so it'd appear at the targeted person.

He walked away from the crater, arms crossed.

He'd find a better location, he'd do it better. He'd do it how he wanted he- maybe he'd not even make a house. He didn't need anyone telling him what to do- or even if they liked what he did.

He was the villain.

The only sound besides his boots crunching on the snow beneath them, was a small sniffle. Any noises that would've followed were snuffed out, just like the passion he had felt building his residence.


	30. All In Your Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 506 Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment on this. It got ignored everywhere else I posted it and I honestly wasn't going to post it at all. I'm desperate for approval though (just like Dream in my last drabble)

Voices, whispers, guiding metaphorical hands. Just simple suggestions to sway a debate, guarantee a result, and turn the tides of war.

_"Blood..."_

There they were again, the one thing they wanted most- the one thing they'd been deprived of like a drowning man had been stripped of air. They were growing hungry, fearing they'd die off if it went longer.

If they really wanted, if they really tried- they could make the target do whatever they wanted. The voices gave him a choice though- a chance.

They'd let him do what he pleased, and they'd lend him their strength. But they'd require sacrifice.

Monsters weren't good enough- nothing was better than ending an enemy or even a friend.

So the voices outstretched their reach, their claws sunk into their host digging deeper.

_"We want blood."_

They weren't given a true response, just a huff in place of a whine and an utter of how their host didn't want to.

That's what they got for trying to use a child.

A young boy, bright in every single way except for the dark edges of his mind and his heart- the dark corners where the voices lurked. They were like-minded. The boy wanted to see people bleed just as much as his little friends did.

But he did not act on impulse, he kept himself contained.

Into adulthood, it had been a reoccurring thing. Feeding the voices and keeping them happy- keeping them excited. They'd grown to like the host better than before.

That young boy had bent to their wills, he'd broken and he'd cut- he'd slashed- he'd slain.

The voices ate it all up, loving every second. Whispers of how to dice and flay properly, how they wanted this one to be burnt.

They had laughed, their host laughing along. Maniacal, insane, and most importantly, satiated.

They could go back into the dark corners, leaving their prey to their own devices for awhile.

But there comes a time when they'd need to feed again, and denial was not what they were expecting.

A good person.

Their host wanted to be a good person.

They didn't understand, ready to yell at him- ready to scream and to force him into doing it. Ready to end this temporary vow of peace.

That's all it'd ever be. A temporary vow. Nothing lasted forever.

Cities crumbled, and governments had been overthrown, it was just a way of life- a way of surviving for those little voices in the back of the boy's head. In the back of the man's head.

They'd made him want to stab, they'd made the urge the only thing- his main focus. He could barely speak anymore without slipping in hints of murderous desire.

It was a part of him.

A part he'd never be rid of.

A part he'd feed eventually, and keep feeding until the day he himself died.

Until the voices found someone new to latch onto and coerce into violence.

Someone new to feed their ever growing hunger for destruction and demise.


	31. Riptide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 438 Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This too, comments PLEASE. I'm literally begging for attention right now. This was done on the spot and not thought out at all

_"I was scared of dentists and the dark..."_

The boy swayed from left to right, hearing the chords of the song echo off the walls of his room. A hand came up to the closed window, pressing a heated hand against the cold glass.

_"I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations..."_

Emerald eyes shifted down to the windowsill, action figures all perfectly in a row. A small sniffle snuck its way past his defenses. A hand came over, slamming a fist against the radio. It didn't quiet, the song just skipping a few lines.

_"There's this movie that I think you'll like..."_

He stepped away from the window, putting his head in his hands and slipping onto the floor. Glowing stars covered the ceiling of a child's bedroom. Little stickers that were glow-in-the-dark. They'd been stuck there long ago by two small pairs of hands.

_"This guy decides to quit his job and head to New York City..."_

No. This had to be the worst song for the situation. He rolled onto his side, bringing one hand up and over his mouth. He was choking on air, choking on sobs that just wouldn't come out.

That second pair of hands that had helped him stick those stars up would never come back. They'd never cross again- never hold each other again.

He sniffled once more, the tears finally falling down.

_"This cowboy's running from himself..."_

That part wasn't true, they had run from him- not them.

_"And she's been living on the highest shelf..."_

Did he? Was he truly a narcissist? Did he push everyone away? Did he push them away? His mind reminded him of it being his own fault- because it was, it really was.

His heart skipped a beat, and so did the track playing in the old-school stereo.

_"I just wanna... I just wanna... I just wanna... I just wanna..."_

It wouldn't stop playing the starting of the same line- it wouldn't stop echoing in his mind or in the room. Wouldn't stop tormenting him until he picked it up and threw it across the room.

It broke apart, shrapnel lying around and the song finally stopping.

For all but a few minutes.

_"I swear she's destined for the screen..."_

He'd had enough, he wanted it over.

_"Closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you've ever seen, oh..."_

But it wouldn't stop would it- it'd continue to pull at his heart. It'd remind him of a love he'd never see again. A person who loved this song- a person he couldn't listen to the music without thinking of.

A person long dead already.


	32. Blah Blah Blah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1211 Words

A boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, spinning around somewhat while music played from a little radio. He was dancing along, enjoying the rhythm. It was his own little world, the room and the music. It didn't leave the confines of the prison the walls created for it. He slipped his foot against the carpet, falling back on his bed and smiling at the ceiling.

He was breathing heavily, having exerted himself with all the movement. He closed his eyes, a hand making its way to his chest; heartbeat echoing in his mind. It was fast, like he'd run a marathon when all he'd done was dance around the space he called his own.

Eyes opened to be met with an adult walking in and turning off the radio. "That shit is too damn loud. Broken thing." They didn't spare the child a glance, just walking back out and closing the door behind them.

The boy hopped up, turning it back on and being less dramatic with his movements. A hand in the air and a fist pumped, a little bit of air guitar and some giggles. He was having the time of his life, jumping up and kicking at the air before falling down with a laugh.

"Jesus Christ." The adult was back, taking the radio with them once turning it off again. The boy frowned, getting up from the ground and going to follow the adult, door closing in their face.

They sighed, tracing small fingers over painted wood. Green, a small mural of a forest. He looked away, sitting against the door. His entertainment had been taken away and he scratched at the back of his neck; now unknowing of what to do.

  
Emerald eyes picked up on a small toy car, high-up on a shelf. He stood, grabbing it within his small hands and rolling it across the desk in the child's room. He smiled, mouth forming to say things like 'vroom' and 'beep beep'. Neither of the sounds came out, but in his eyes and heart they did.

He let go of the car, watching it roll somewhat on it's own. He would've laughed again, if not for the sound of the door locking catching his attention. He frowned, walking on over and trying to jiggle the handle. It made a small noise of protest when he tried to open the door, and he stopped trying when he heard the adult in the hallway swear.

He was trapped in the room, looking around for any sort of thing to interest himself for the time being. The bed proved to be a better place to sit than the floor, tiny hands picking at the covers. The boy's eyes flicked from the window to the locked door, and the adult seemingly slipped from his mind.

He was humming, the sound silent to the outside world, to the room as well. It was a simple few notes, the same song he'd been blasting. It was a favorite, a clear favorite. 

Something under the bed grabbed his ankle.

  
He'd tugged against the invisible force, frightened and panicking. He hit the ground, easily being dragged the rest of the way under. It was dark underneath, it was dark in the room, eyes catching the light coming in through the window.

He didn't like it under the bed, he hated it under the bed. Whatever was holding him wouldn't let go, his breathing quickening just as it had after dancing. He wanted out, clawing at the carpet. It let him go eventually, the little boy scrambling to his feet and hopping back as far away from the bed as he could.

The closet opened, pulling him in and shutting the doors after. He rubbed his hands all over the shutter-like design, able to see through into the room. He was scared now, none of it made sense.

A hand on his shoulder was not a welcome presence. "They don't like you, do they?" The voice was in-human, deeper than any the kid had heard.

He didn't want to answer, and whoever it was didn't press or force him to. He just squeaked at them, trying to open the closet and failing to do so.

"I've been watching, you know." The hand was gone, fading into the shadows created by school uniforms and coats. The boy spun around, sifting through the clothes hung up. There was nothing there.

  
The boy swallowed roughly, finding that he could easily open the closet door and step back into his own room. He was wary of everything now, the light through the window dimming. Night was approaching and the kid frowned, he was already alone, he didn't need to be alone and in the dark.

"It's a real shame, kid." The hands were back on his shoulders when he went to reach for the lightswitch, startling and jumping closer to the wall, spinning around to catch a glimpse of some sort of animal skull. 

He whined, flicking the lights on and watching the dark corners of the room blink out of existence. This invoked another swear word, the adult seemingly passing by at the wrong time. They unlocked the door and poked their head in to turn the light off again. "Fucking hell."

He was being lifted into the air by the hands that'd been on him. "A real shame what happened." He was scared, but he didn't have it in him to fight, letting himself be placed on a tall man's shoulders. They wore an animal skull for a helmet, a red cape following their every movement and flickering with a breeze that didn't exist.

He put his hands on top of the skull, holding on. He'd never been this high-up in his room, able to see every nook and cranny; the darkness that had rushed back to where it belonged.

"It's time to go."

  
What- no. That didn't make sense. The kid frowned, wanting to answer- wanting to ask a question. And he did so, but the tall man didn't hear him. He didn't hear himself, a hand coming up to his mouth and another to his chest.

None of it made sense and he found tears pricking at his eyes. He tried to ask where, he tried to ask why. The man could hear him, not audibly though. "Your time is up."

His time. That didn't- it didn't. He frowned, this guy was cryptic and he hated it. He tried to ask what the man meant, watching them open the door to his room and step out, taking the boy with them.

They passed the adult who had been pacing in the hallway, being stared directly through as if they weren't there. The boy didn't understand, he didn't know about any of it. 

The adult didn't see him, and the adult didn't see the man carrying him. He wanted to cry, sniffling silently. "Shush. It's alright." The man had carried him out of his house and onto the sidewalk, slowly walking down. "You're going somewhere better."

What could possibly be better than his own home with his adult. His- his parent. The man didn't answer again, slowly walking off and taking the boy into the woods.

"Somewhere you'll be appreciated."


	33. Yearning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 437 Words

Hands that had once held one another tenderly, fingers with rings gently slipped on- gold bands clinking together. These hands were opposed, one would hold a sword, and the other would caress against sticks of dynamite.

It had been a secret between the two of course, but it had been loving. Small embraces, brushing the backs of gloves together, intertwining pinky-fingers. The subtle touches that proved they still cared about one another. It all meant nothing.

It had been thrown away. Every 'I love you', every 'I love you too', every 'We will see each other again', was gone. All of it. Promises had been broken, and hearts had been torn out and stomped on.

The blonde glared down at the small gold ring, turning it between his fingers. It was in the bottom of the lake a few seconds later, never to be seen again. The blonde huffed, walking away from the lake with crossed arms, not sparing a glance at anything that wasn't the ground.

He had too much on his mind. Too much shit to worry about, too much to possibly cry about. His thoughts were running in circles, all winding up at the same place. 

A cabin in the Arctic. A cozy little place where a past-lover and himself would hole up together. Coddling each other, sneaking and sharing soft chaste kisses.

It'd never happen again.

Neither would reciprocate if one stepped out of line to reignite the embers of what used to be blazing passion. They hated each other.

The blonde didn't remember why, it had been so long. He'd just chosen to finally throw his stupid ring away. He'd been holding on for too long, crying himself to sleep for too long. It was symbolic. The final step in completely forgetting all ties to his former-lover. It was all replaced with disdain.

He'd turned over his shoulder, the water still in sight; his reflection still in sight. He couldn't see his face. He was grateful for the mask disguising the blank expression. He was thankful that it had all been a secret. It could die alone.

And so could he.

He wouldn't take his final breaths in a loving hold like he had once wanted and craved. He'd be stabbed through by his enemies. He'd die participating in a war. 

He'd die in an embrace of hatred, quite possibly in his ex-lover's arms. It'd be different. 

He was disgusted, turning back around and walking the rest of the way. He was free from the shackles a relationship had imposed. 

Until death did they part.

The other was certainly dead to him.


	34. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 472 Words

There were two sides to every story, two sides to every coin, at least two people in every relationship. A sword hung up on the wall, on display when not in use. 

The secret had been hard to keep, but they'd done it. They'd done their best to sneak small advances. Light kisses on the cheek, sliding the ring onto the other's finger with a smile and gaining the sweetest laugh for his efforts. The memory was worthless now.

Everytime the other had told him they loved him, he'd respond. He'd echo their words back, loving the other more than words would let them. It hurt, splitting from them.

The pinkette sat on the ground of his cottage, face pressed against the wooden tiles. He'd been lazier since his partner had left. There was no longer motivation to get up in the morning, or even go to sleep on time. There was no reason to do either, he had nothing to look forward to anymore.

His masked-lover was gone and would no longer be waking up beside him. He wouldn't get to bask in the intimate silence of the other being asleep. He wouldn't get to see the early morning sun framing blonde hair like a perfect halo, a sliver of hope.

He still had the ring on, underneath his glove. He slipped the leather off his pale hand, staring down at the gold band engraved with the words 'Forever, you and me. Always.'

It didn't mean anything anymore, and it still hurt his heart. He didn't have it in him to get rid of it though. It was the small piece of the other he could keep.

He met the other's passian, and now he met the other's distaste. He hated them more than they hated him. He huffed, making a fist with his hands and forcing his eyes to stop watering.

He shook his head, pushing himself up to stand. Ruby-eyes stared out the window, expecting to see someone in the snow. He was hoping to see a lime-green figure walking up to his home. 

But there was no one there. The snowy expanse was empty besides the trees and hills. He huffed, unclenching his fist and pushing away from the door.

His bed was empty, had been a year since it had someone else in it. It'd been a whole four years since he'd obtained the ring still on his hand. He was no longer married, but he couldn't help but sometimes feel like he was.

He couldn't help but be hopeful that he'd wake up next to the lithe blonde like he once did so many times before. He had been hopeful, so hopeful. He'd never give up thinking that it was all some sort of nightmare.

Maybe it was a nightmare.

His ex-lover sure was one now.


	35. Christmas Special: Carol of the Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1684 Words

Little feet pittered in perfect timing with a group of carolers, coat flowing in the cold wind. Children accompanied the voices, ringing small little handheld bells. Bandaged feet kept their way, running along as the snow continued to fall.

“Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, throw cares away...”

They weren't listening as they ran past, stamina coming seemingly out of nowhere. They weren't necessarily running from anything, just leaving. People lined the streets, the kid speeding past them. They didn't have anywhere to go except wherever the past decided to take them.

An adult tripped them, the kid landing face-first on the snow-covered sidewalk. They sniffled, rubbing at their nose with a gloved hand. They'd finally gotten the time to see feel exhausted all the running had made them. Standing buck up on numb feet, someone else bumped their shoulder into the kid; sending them back to the ground. 

The world was cruel for someone as tiny as they were. The small boy managed to push himself back up and walk out onto the side of the street, a carriage rushing past. It was the most dreadful and busy time of year.

"Oh how they pound, raising their sound, o'er hill and dale, telling their tale..."

Another source of music, singing the same tune, was within their sight now, kid rubbing at their forearms and watching their breath swirl in the air as they walked. It was miserable, chest spasming slightly with each exhale- doing it's best to inhale evenly after. The boy just barely missed someone trying to knock him over again.

He came up to the singers, watching them while they ignored him. Even commoners were better than his presence, the young boy swiftly turning away and slipping from their view.

He was unwanted. This was a fact he knew for certain, ducking on into an alleyway. A box of matches in his pocket came in handy, striking one and cupping his hand around it to keep it lit. It was warm, and perfect for the time being. It was just what he needed to keep going. He sighed, catching himself threatening to tear up. Crying was a sign of weakness, he'd not do that.

Coming up at the back of a building, a small portion of the ground was void of snow. He sat down under the small awning keeping him from getting covered in the frozen powder. The wind was mostly blocked, allowing him to let the match out of its makeshift prison created by his palms. 

The sky was quickly darkening, his breath accidentally putting the match out.

He lit another.

He was secluded in the little off area, curled up in a dark-brown cloak. It was a perfect makeshift blanket, nursing a match- feeding off the warmth. Winter was always the worst, and it was hitting him the hardest this year.

He had nowhere to go except the orphanage, ruby eyes not allowing him to belong with the others. He sniffled again, blaming it on the cold.

Images of blood flashed in his mind, dead bodies lining the streets of his home town. This place was supposed to be better, kinder to him by leaving him be. It never did. He was pushed down countless times, bumped into, spit on even. 

He was brought out of his thoughts of the past by hearing feet seemingly just as small as his own. A kid entering the alleyway, maybe even younger than himself. He curled up, doing his best to keep his match from being smothered, feasting off its warmth.

"...Hello, there?" The boy almost didn't hear them, the carolers just on the other side of the street having started up again.

He looked up at them, taking in scruffy dusty-blonde hair and bright emerald eyes. The kid sat across from him, both of them staying out of the gently falling snowflakes.

"This is where I usually come, I didn't expect to see you here." The other kid had a cloak just like his own, putting the hood up and curling into themselves just as the red-eyed boy had. They had a common goal, staying out of the cold. They weren't so different, short pink-hair complimenting patchy soot-stained pale skin.

"I can leave... If you want me to-" The match had burnt itself out, the boy reluctantly going to stand- only stopping when a hand-pulled on his coat.

"You don't have to- the only spot like this one isn't for another few blocks. You wouldn't make it by proper nightfall."

And so the pinkette sat across from the blonde, tucking themself into a ball as their new companion did.

The kids stared at each other for a good while, the boy covered in soot striking up another match and holding it near his face. He passed the matchbook over, getting a better look at the other. Their face was covered in scars, a bandaged hand going and taking a single match to strike. The corners of cut lips quirked up while he handed the matchbook back, a lovely smile.

They were outcasts, young kids on the streets with no where to go. "Thank you." The blonde spoke softly, cradling the match between his fingers and sighing.

The pinkette was curious, reaching a hand up to his own face and tracing the path of one of the boy's scars. He didn't understand how a kid could look like that, what could've been done.

"How'd..."

"The streets aren't kind to anyone. They don't go easy on your just because you're young." It seemed to strike a nerve, hood going back up and face being covered by shadow.

Night covered both of them like a gentle blanket, the light of the burning sticks being the only source of warmth- the lights on in nearby houses just making both of them feel colder. Families were enjoying their Christmas together in the safe warm embrace of each other while the two boys fought off hypothermia with a single match each.

They'd run out eventually, ash-covered fingers toying with the matchbook while scarred danced along the cold stone. It was coldest at night, and both were shaking.

One by one, the lights went out as midnight had been approaching, the smothering darkness hiding them away. The songs had stopped, the sounds had stopped. All that was left was the freezing air and each other.

Loved kids had already been tucked into bed by their parents, kissed on the forehead, and bid goodnight. All the two had was the silence until it was filled with soft snoring. The pinkette looked across the way at the sleeping blonde, impressed by how they'd managed to find enough comfort to slip into their dreams.

He was relatively alone, sniffling. He didn't blame this one on the cold, knowing full well he was on the verge of tears. He let himself dawdle on the scene of his parents strung up in a church, hung for their crimes against humanity. Crimes they didn't commit, crimes that the boy would've been killed for as well if he hadn't run. He was a disgrace to the human race, ruby eyes making him different and hated.

He only stopped sniffling when he heard the sound of boots crunching against snow, and noticed a faint light from a lantern. He kept himself tucked away in his little corner, quieting his sniffles. A man was approaching.

He kept his cloak tight around his body, knowing that'd be the end if the man found him. People weren't nice. The footsteps grew closer, stopping just before him. He stayed curled up though, willing himself to be invisible, to not be found. The light from the man's lantern had gotten closer, being sat down next to the boy.

He was startled by a hand on his shoulder, red-eyes wide and looking into aquamarine. There wasn't hatred in them, just surprise and pity. "What are you doing out here at this time of night?" He was gently lifted into the man's arms, finding himself hugging the man around his neck. He heard small noises of surprise, realizing the man had noticed his new acquaintance too. "There's two of you-"

The man bent down again, hoisting the sleeping blonde into his other arm and doing his best to hold the lamp. He lit the way out of the cold alleyway, the pinkette shaking and clinging to him. The dusty-blonde had eventually woken, immediately scared but silent, realizing the hold on him was not malicious, but loving- caring.

Both boys were eventually hugging their savior, only stopping when the air had changed from cold and dark to lit and warm. 

They were both set down on wooden chairs at a table, shivering and numb from the time spent in the alley. It had been the coldest all year.

The pinkette finally got a good look at the man, blonde hair reaching down to his shoulders and a green tunic complimenting the pale color. The children were quick to warm up in the new location, finally looking healthy again instead of a frozen light-blue.

"Daaaaaaaaaaad-" Small steps were walking down a flight of stairs, brown hair and a little boy making himself known. "Tommy can't-" The kid had finished rubbing at his eyes, seeing the new kids at the table. "Dad- who-"

The man didn't answer, a delectable smell filling the small house at the time. His humming was apparent, the pinkette finally picking up on it. He turned to the dirty-blonde across from him, finding him already gone and the front door left open. "Say hello to your new brother." The man seemed saddened by the fact the other child was gone but didn't let it show as he rubbed a warm and wet cloth on the pinkette's face, washing off the black stains. "What's your name kid?"

He hadn't spoken to an adult in a long while, but a bowl of soup being placed in front of him, and the gentle patting at the grime coating his skin was enough to nearly move him to tears. "Techno."


	36. There are More Things to Worry About than Monsters. Try a God for Example 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2916 Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be more on the concept, but idk :D

"Dean." The younger sibling sat in the passenger seat, inspecting a map held on the dash. "The town isn't gonna be in sight for another three hours. We might as well pull over."

The elder sibling shook his head, continuing down the deserted road. "Evil waits for no person, Sam." Brown hair fluttered slightly in the breeze, the car's windows rolled down. The Chevy Impala was loyal to the brothers, never failing to get them where they needed to be.

"But a warning that we're almost out of gas can certainly stop us." Sam pointed to a small indicator light, and then the gauge behind the wheel that showed they were almost empty.

"You packed the spare jerry can, correct?"

"...I thought that was your job-"

The car stopped, the older brother slamming on the brakes. "Sam." Dean put the car in park, looking towards his younger sibling. "...We're in trouble then." He'd pulled back onto the main bit of the road and they finally broke down after about an hour.

"What're we going to do." Dean had the first idea, unlocking the door and stepping out onto the road. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, thankful that there was service. It might've been midnight, but the tow company was a 24/7 service. He went to call, but was interrupted with his eyes sliding to the nearby trees.

Something was there, and he could see it. A lighter green amongst the forest. He slowly slipped the phone down from where it had been by his ear, staring at the figure. He watched them move, swift and out of sight. They were sitting ducks for whatever this was.

"Sam." He stuck a hand through the window, tapping his brother's shoulder. "There's someone out here. I don't think they're human."

He huffed, hearing his brother get out of the car as well, walking around to the trunk to pop it open. Weapons were on display, a pentagram-esque symbol plastered on the underside of the decklid. "Then we better be more safe than sorry."

Dean nodded, going for his Colt M1911A1. There were a number of different ammunitions he could load up for whatever this fucking entity was. He was loading the gun when the sound of something grinding against an axe blade, sharpening it, caused him to lose focus and drop one of the bullets. He quickly bent down, picking it up and loading it in, cocking the gun.

The figure was visible again, a purple axe hoisted over their shoulder. They started walking towards the brothers. The mask covering their face was illuminated by a sort of glow coming off their weapon.

Dean elbowed his little brother, circling around to try and put the car between them and the threat. "Who are you." The elder held the gun up, pointing it directly at the approaching person.

He didn't get an answer, just the axe dropping down and hands going up in the air. Surrendering. They were silent, walking closer. The axe laid in the grass, boots crunching grass and eventually landing on asphalt.

They were taller than Dean, but shorter than Sam, hands going from being up to pull a black collar over their somewhat exposed chin. It was cold out and it was dark, but both brothers could see the smiley face on the blank white surface.

It seemed sinister, no matter how innocent it was probably supposed to seem. They pulled their hood over a bit of dirty-blonde hair that was poking out, standing in front of the hunters. "My question is who are you."

Dean was not expecting to hear a voice that sounded like some sort of teenager.

He put his gun down, staring up at the presumed young man. "I asked you first, fuck face." They twitched, possibly anger.

"No need to move to swearing so early-" Their arms were spread out, head tilting back as if motioning to everyone in the area. "I'm Dream." One hand stayed on the air, the other covering their heart. "And you?"

Demons were powerful if they knew first names, Dean pointing the gun directly where the man's forehead would most likely be. He watched them move their head forward, porcelain gently clinking against the barrel. "Winchester."

"That's not your name." A hand came up, holding onto the gun and forcing Dean to point it at the ground. "What's your name." 

"We don't have to tell you shit, we're the ones with the weapons here." Sam had been silent, cocking his own firearm.

"It's just friendly conversation." A crossbow that had the same glowing effect as the axe had seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the masked-man's hands. He loaded a bolt into it, the ammo also existing where it hadn't before. "There. Now we both have weapons. Is this what you wanted?"

"Where'd that come from?" Both brothers were immediately on edge again, more so than before. A glowing crossbow was definitely not a good or even a normal thing. 

"My inventory of course." They turned around, going and picking up their discarded axe and Sam watched it just pop out of the air when they held onto it. Some sort of dimensional storage, definitely non-human. They spun around, hood falling down and revealing the back of the man's head, dirty blonde hair cropped somewhat and a black leather strap snuggly fit all around right above their ears. They turned around, walking back to the brothers. "I couldn't help but notice that your machine seems to have stopped working. I've been following you for awhile and wanted to know if you were alright or if there was anything you needed." The bow was pointed at the ground, an idle sort of motivation.

Tell him or get shot, that was what seemed to be the option. "Yeah. We ran out of gas. Don't suppose you just have some?"

A gloved hand came up, tapping at where the masked-man's temple would be. "But of course I do. I have everything." They reached a hand behind their back, a plastic container filled with gasoline coming out. The crossbow went behind their back as well, an empty palm coming back out. "Don't suppose you need it for arson."

"No. The machine runs on it." Dean reached out, hand holding onto the handle, centimeters away from the man's own grip. Their covered face was suddenly up in his own. 

"If I give this to you then you owe me a favor."

Oh hell no. All good hunters knew you didn't owe any sort of entity anything. Don't make deals, don't do favors. "No." He let go of the can, startling when the other hand grabbed his wrist, forcing him to take the can. 

"I have a friend I need to find." They let go of the gasoline, leaving it entirely in Dean's hands. It wasn't as heavy as it should've been, some of the liquid having been used already. Dean didn't want to think about how that could've happened. He turned away from the man, going to fill up the gas tank while Sam kept an eye on them. "A few actually. One more than the others. I need him with me before he finds anyone else, he doesn't deserve to talk to them." With their head tilting down, a strange shadow appeared on the mask, adding to the sinister look. "He isn't allowed to."

Sam just nodded. "We'll help you find your friends, alright? Just. Ground rules. You keep all your weapons away and don't harm either of us." Dean was ready to yell at his brother. You weren't supposed to offer demons anything- you weren't supposed to- Sam wasn't a newbie, he should've known that shit.

"Oh goodie. Though I wouldn't really say they're my friends." Dream clapped his hands together, head back up and smiley face innocent.

Sam nodded. "The backseat is open for you to take up temporary residence in for the ride." He reached a hand up, going for the man's mask and getting his hand slapped away.

"Don't. Touch that." Clearly the wrong way of going about things. "The mask stays on." He walked around, opening the backdoor and going to sit in the back, axe on his lap and door shut behind him. He already violated one of the ground rules, but Sam realized he was just sharpening it.

He walked around to the back of the car, staring over at his brother and striking conversation again. "Well. We've got a travel buddy and some people to find."

"Sam. You dumbass. Talk with me about this shit before picking up random threatening people in the woods." Dean slammed the trunk closed, half-empty can now in the back with piles of knives and guns. He slipped back into the driver's seat, putting the car back in drive and moving along. "So... 'Dream', tell us about this friend of yours."

The man looked up, beady-eyes meeting dark-green. "Blonde kid, 16 years old, scruffy." Mentally declining, unhealthy. There were multiple words he could've said. "Red shirt with white accents." All he used were the basics. "I need to find him before he finds anyone else."

"Why exactly?"

"I already told you." The sound of the axe grinding against a stone, sharpening the blade, was echoing in the Impala. "He's not allowed to interact with others."

The brothers didn't press further, sharing a single look. The rest of the trip was silent, for all but a single cough from Dream. It was pained, like the man was hurt.

Sam had just looked back at him through the rearview mirror as Dean had, watching him clutch at his sweater. Armor made out of the same material as the axe had appeared on his person a few seconds later, lighting up the entire backseat with its gentle glow.

"What is that-" Dean had asked Dream when they were standing outside of a motel. He ticked a finger against the metal, cautious of it but slowly warming up to the figure.

"Netherite. The strongest material." He waved off any more questions, keeping his eyes on Sam who had gone to get room keys. 

Actually. Singular. One key. They didn't trust Dream on his own. Sure they'd realized he wasn't after them, but they still had a right to keep him in their sights.

Dream was immediately sitting on the singular chair in the room, leaving the two beds to the two brothers.

A map was already on his lap, and a glowing compass set on top. He really was looking for something, the arrow of the compass constantly changing direction. Either whatever it was traveled fast, or the piece of junk was broken.

"Your little doohickey is broken."

"Maybe." He held the compass up, turning it over. The arrow still pointed in the original direction, even moving so it could do so. "Maybe not." Whatever it was tracking had finally settled down and when Dream slid his thumb over the glossy face, words engraved themselves in the back of the metal.

'The target is 250 meters away.'

He smirked underneath the mask, a low chuckle sounding in the room. "Oh, Tommy. You can't hide forever." The brothers couldn't hear that last part, just the name.

"Tommy?"

Dream nodded, his compass and map going wherever his weapons had. "You two should sleep so I can get my... Friend, in the morning. I know you wouldn't like me leaving on my own-" There was some leftover laughter from whatever had been so funny the first time. "So I'll wait for you." He was certainly an observant person.

The brothers looked at each other again, nodding before laying down in the motel beds. THey had protective wards, if Dream tried to kill them while they slept, they'd be alerted and the man himself would even get hurt in the process.

This proved to not be a problem. Dream was still sitting in his chair when Sam woke up first.

Coffee was on his mind and he barely registered the fact that the masked man was staring directly at him, the compass constantly being caressed.

'The target is 250 meters away.'

They hadn't moved all night, and Dream hadn't slept all night. "Do me a favor and get your brother up would you- Tommy is so close and I can't bare the thought of him being taken from me again." Dream patted at his armor, plate- the thing disappearing. It was like he had geared up for an attack that might've happened in the night, positively surprised by the fact there wasn't one.

Sam nodded, but there was no need, seeing as Dean was already up by the time Sam got close. 

The brothers sipped their coffee brewed using the cheap motel room coffee maker, and Dream kept toying with his compass.

'The target is 200 meters away.'

They were coming to him, a deranged smile splitting under the mask. He'd have them in no time if they just walked right back into his arms.

He'd stood up, the brothers immediately following after him. They didn't want Dream getting into any sort of trouble. Walking out of the motel room, and right on the street- right across the way. A blonde-boy that looked partially beat up was dragging his feet as he walked, looking around at everything, being cautious of anything.

Dream was quick to run across the street at the cross-walk and put his hands on Tommy's shoulders. The boy was frozen, staring at the man who had crouched before him. "I was so worried, Tommy. You ran and when I went to find you- it said you'd gone through the portal. You know you're not allowed through the portal, right Tommy?"

"...Right. Dream." The brothers had caught up, staring at the child and masked-man. The teenager slowly went to hug the crouching figure, tired as could be. "Sorry. Won't- won't happen again."

There was something off about him, but the brothers couldn't tell exactly what it was.

"It better not happen again. I don't really like going out of my way to make sure you stay safe it's- it's scary out here Tommy. All those people, your best friend that abandoned you- but I'm your best friend now. Remember? I take care of you. Remember?"

Oh. The Winchesters looked between each other again. They knew what was wrong, watching the dirty-blonde hug the smaller teen. They might've just endangered this kid.

"You haven't spoken to anyone have you?"

"Well, I-"

"Have you?"

"...No, Dream."

"What made you think it was a good idea to leave me? To disobey the rules I set? To try and hurt me if I followed you? To succeed in doing so?”

"Well Dream it-"

"Tommy." Dream pushed the kid away somewhat, covering the backs of the blonde's hands where they were still in the air. "I just try to keep you safe. They've all hurt you- your best friend abandoned you- do I really have to say it all again?" He stood up, Tommy basically going to hold his hand. As if Dream was his older brother, his protector. "I'll take you back as soon as we find out how alright- these two have been kind enough to help me find you."

The masked-man waved a hand in the direction of the brothers. "I know, Dream I-"

"Then why do you keep running, Tommy. You're safe with me. You know that."

"I do, Dream. I do."

The dirty blonde nodded. "You need to stop pulling these stunts and stay where you're safest. Anyone here could have done anything." His hand slipped around to Tommy's shoulder, a reminder that he was here- that the smaller blonde was in his presence. That he wasn't going anywhere.

That all escape attempts are futile. "I will Dream."

The Winchesters were silent, stepping back slightly to huddle together. "What the hell have we done."

"I don't know Sam, but we need to help that kid."

"What are you two talking about-" The Dream tilted his head towards them. He wasn't deaf, he could hear them converse.

"Just uh- plotting a route. You have more friends here, yes?"

No. He didn't. Not that he knew of. "Yes. I do. I'll be doing my best to take Tommy back. Any suspicious sort of people you see- ask them if they know me." He spun away from the brothers, getting Tommy to walk by his side. 

The blonde looked over his shoulder at the two brothers, seemingly pleading for help with his eyes- even if the teen didn't realize it was happening. "Wait- Dream."

The man stopped, turning back to the brothers. He was impatient now. "There's no harm in both of you staying around, that way we can make sure these people are your allies or friends- right?"

There were a lot of problems that could cause, they weren't even his allies. Every last one of them was an enemy of his, all but maybe five and even that was pushing it. "...I suppose. Tommy, do you want to stay with these guys while we find the others?" He honestly didn't know if there still was anyone, but it could prove to be quite the adventure.

Maybe it could help instill the thought in Tommy's head. The thought that the world was dangerous and that Dream was the only person on his side.

"I do, Dream."

Or maybe it was an opportunity for the kid to escape his prison, his personal Hell.


	37. Dancing Circles Around You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1495 Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GIFT FOR LEN. THEY DREW ME A BUNCH OF FANART AND STUFF AND SO I OWED THEM. THEY WANTED DREAMNOBLADE DANCING

The commoner set down the box he was carrying, glancing around at the mid-morning skies. There’d be an event tonight, a glorious ball thrown for visiting monarchs. All hands were on deck to get things set up for the night time. Gardeners trimming the hedges outside, knights practicing a certain guard formation to make sure the event would be safe, and then there was the pinkette. 

Moving boxes back and forth, carrying supplies for certain groups, sharpening the knights' swords when they needed. He was just a helping hand, but his help was most definitely appreciated.

“I hear that they’re going to be bringing that son of theirs.” A passing noblewoman caught the helper’s eye, the box being set at his feet and ears tuning into her conversation with another noble. 

  
“Oh? Really?” The man was snooty, turning up his nose. “The one that parades around in ball gowns and is constantly stepping over his own two feet?” 

The commoner knew the prince they were talking about, one of the visiting King’s children. He sighed, kicking at the box before picking it up and walking off to put it where it needed to be. It wasn’t his place to be worrying about the royals, or even thinking about them. He was just a helpful farmhand who went to offer his services to anyone who needed assistance.

It was no secret that the blonde prince liked the floaty dresses of the princess, finding themself comfortable in the soft silk and cotton waves that the fabric created; the gentle cradle the clothing created around the body. It was also no secret that not many people liked that, but the King and Queen were accepting, so the people would pretend that they were too. But of course, the second they were alone, they’d be spitting insults and hogwash. Disgrace against the lovely boy’s family name.

The pinkette sighed, startled by a yell. “Techno! Boy!” He snapped his head towards the source, a chef standing in the doorway created by the main castle gate.

“Yes, sir?” He yelled back to them, making sure the box was set up properly before making his way near the man who had called for him. “Do you need me for something?”

“Your father called for you back at the stables. Word has been traveling through the castle that he is the one who needs help.” The pinkette nodded, walking off and around the outer walls of the castle. His attention was constantly anywhere but the place he was walking. The flowers in patches of grass, the vines hanging down from nearby trees, and a chicken trying to run past him. 

He quickly bent down in his walk, picking it up and standing upright to find that his father had been chasing the animal. “Oh- Techno. You caught Henrietta.” The pinkette kept walking, carefully keeping the hen in a warm embrace.

“Wasn’t too hard.” He’d started following the other to the stables, watching a carriage roll down the nearby road. Henrietta was set back in the coop and the teen wiped his hands off on his tunic, smiling softly. “Someone said you needed me for something-” His attention was away from the arriving guests and instead on the older male.

“No, I only needed your help with the hen. That is all.” The blonde adult smiled back at his son, turning around to tend to another animal in the very back area of the courtyard surrounding the castle. He felt it had been a huge waste of time to walk all the way out just for the hen, but the pinkette supposed that a loose hen could possibly ruin everything. Better safe than sorry.

Today had to be perfect, a birthday party for the young princess of the kingdom. Nothing could go wrong for her birthday ball. He’d make sure it was all good, everyone would. It’d all be the best it possibly could.

“DAD!” He winced, a small blonde kid running up past his legs and towards the stables again. The pinkette hadn’t even noticed that he’d walked away and was right next to the carriage. It was now empty, whoever was inside had obviously left. 

The teen walked around the outskirts again, startled when a hand reached out to pull him into the castle and shove a few platters into his hands. “They’re here- you need to go and set the buffet table-” He quickly nodded, walking off in a strange way so he could balance the platters and get them set up without dropping anything.

People were going to walk all around, smiling and talking to each other for the event that would soon be taking place. Colored strips of paper hung in the air and Techno turned around to catch a glimpse of emerald; it was gone just as fast as it’d appeared. He’d rolled his eyes, shaking his head and heading back to the kitchen to grab the next platter.

“Look, I want you looking cleaner than you do right now and out on the floor tonight. We might need your help, Techno.” The boy nodded, walking off and hearing footsteps that weren’t his own trailing behind him. He turned to see no one in the hall though. 

It continued all the way to the room his family got to call their own. It was quiet after, but he heard someone walking away. Techno quickly opened the door to see a glimpse of blonde hair going around a corner. “Hmm.” The pinkette just hummed, slipping in to change into something more orderly.

He was a servant tonight.

\---

He really was, pulling on the cuffs of his sleeves and making sure his hair wasn’t a matted mess.

He’d quickly walked out into the ongoing party, immediately handed a plate that had chalices on it. He went around, handing them out and going to stand by a wall then the platter was empty.

He saw them. Green and white dress with gold detailing clinging to their frame. That prince people had been talking badly of earlier. They’d met his eyes and Techno recognized that shade of emerald.

“You-” The blonde pointed a finger at the pinkette standing off to the side. “I saw you earlier. Stable boy, right?”

Techno huffed, looking off to the right. “My little brother is the 'stable boy' now.” He wasn’t a conversationalist.

“Still.” The prince covered their mouth with the side of a gloved hand. “Dance with me. You look uptight and rule-abiding. Let go for a little bit, alright?” The prince was obviously blushing, Techno taking the hand outstretched towards him. His platter was set on a nearby table, turning into the other. The result was instant, one of Dream’s hands intertwined with his own, and the other resting on his shoulder. He put his own unoccupied hand on Dream’s waist, slowly spinning around. “There are no rules against dancing with the commoners.”

“Correct.” They’d swayed gently, a few eyes on them. “Though, I thought you’d rather dance with the princess than with a boring guy like me.” He lightly spun the blonde around, watching the ornate gold and white dress flail up slightly and fan out with the quick motion.

“You’re anything but boring. You’re charming, hard-working, and handsome.” That got the pinkette blushing slightly, ruby and emerald eyes locked in their own sort of dance. Light swirling between the two and bodies weaving in and out of the rest of the crowd. “Very fucking handsome.”

Techno was caught off guard by the sudden swearing. “I-” He was stammering, nearly tripping over his own two feet.

“And awfully cute when embarrassed.” Both of the prince’s hands had made their way around Techno’s neck. The pinkette copied the motion, his now free hand sliding down to the other’s waist; to join its twin in holding onto the blonde. “Just the cutest, honestly.” The prince smirked and spun them around a bit quicker than what was normal. They nearly fell over onto each other, but the small chuckle coming from the blonde made the pinkette decide it was worth it.

“Still doesn’t answer the question of why you’d want to dance with me over literally anyone else here. As you said, I’m the stable boy.” They’d hit a wall, stopping their spinning to stare at each other. A knight stationed along the wall they were up against looked over slightly, but paid them no mind. 

“Cause you’re handsome. I don’t have any other reasoning than that.” He bent backward, forcing the pinkette to lean forward against them. “I don’t think I need more than that either, so it’s all you’re getting cause it’s all I have.” Emerald eyes were brave, the blonde leaning forward to kiss the boy on the cheek and slip out from under them, waving and walking off to get lost in all of the people dancing.

The stable boy slid a hand up, patting at the area, and hiding the flush on his face.


	38. Marrionette Waltz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oop, back on my shit (owo, no word count cuz m lazy)

The blonde spun slowly around, a waltz danced without a partner. His hands were up in the air, grasping at nothing as if holding another person. He was humming as he rotated, stepping forward, stepping back. A simple one-step, two-step, three-step, four-step.

He could hear the piano and bass in his mind, back hitting a wall and fingers splaying. He dropped the faux-act of dance in favor of just slightly moving his fingers as if pulling strings. 

He'd never stopped humming, hands twirling in front of his face, fists-clenching tightly. The leather of his gloves creased uncomfortably in his palm, lightening up on the grip as to no longer cause discomfort. He didn't dare think of lyrics to this song, knowing his mind would take advantage; the dark depths would fill in every single blank.

He lacked friends, starting his slow spinning back up. He could almost see them all, translucent figures of his puppets. A smaller blonde, a pinkette, a beanie-wearing figure; a bandana-bearing silhouette and goggles perching on brown-hair standing in the back. He'd held his hand out, the smallest of the visions walking over to start mimicking his dancing.

That slow lonely waltz that they all started going with.

A child, a soldier, a musician, an archer, and an arsonist.

He bowed, watching them all copy the same movement, heads held down. It was great, seeing frayed pieces of string on his fingers, tied and connecting to nothing. The ends of the strings just blended into the air.

Discs, a favor, a country, and friendship.

He had two and destroyed the others.


End file.
